A family of Idiots
by Kasan Soulblade
Summary: They called him Cardinal since he wouldn't give them his name. But one night, while on watch Noir wondered... what did that child had meant when he said, they took my name away? The answer, when it came, would shake her world.
1. Begining at the ending

To my readers,

Just a little more back story on Asch the Bloody, all set before the game. Something of a structured story dump, though not as sporadic as "From Yulia to Daath" is.

Kasan Soulblade

A Family of Idiots

Prologue

Ending thoughts

He clashed, and knew that he did. His garments were Malkuthite blue amidst the sea of Kimlascan red. They were appalled to see him there, but he'd been ordered to come. So he came, walking the ground of his enemies and allies alike. Uncomfortable with them as they were with him. And his stomach clenched in mute agony as anxiety dogged his every step. Still he did the rounds, acting cool and proper amongst the nobility. He'd come with one purpose, and having seen it started he had lingered to watch it be fulfilled.

Because a Nam-Combodian _never_ left something half done, it wasn't right, it wasn't proper.

It was also the echo of the ethos of a man dead. Dead men didn't talk, still Asch talked loud enough in York's mind. The God-General spoke from the misty realm of memory and his words stuck.

Like always.

York had fought a long uphill battle, against a man who only wanted to know he had one son and a woman so traumatized by the death of both her children that she hovered at death's door herself. A half month of fighting this bloodless war against the parents of his friend and he had had enough.

Still he didn't leave, not until his torch was cast. There were no bodies, no caskets to be put in the ground, so they'd settled on a pyre. No… two pyres, there were two dead after all. Two services, two bodiless funerals, and he'd see at the eldest of the dead off with a few good words.

It's all he had left after all, words and wishes, and though they were hollow it was all he could give.

So he gave them.

Face cast in red hues of the torch he stared at the pile of wood. At it's top fluttered a bit a casic, the holy garment was stiffed by the wind, the rest of Daath religious garments were too weighed down to actually do anything more than shiver in the winds. He was aware of all those eyes on him, perhaps they wondered why he stared at the bit of movement at the top of the soon to be pyre, maybe not. He was aware of them all, and he hated them all. Because not one had anything to say, nothing that bordered on truth. Oh the mother grieved, but she grieved an unknown, and the princess -bless her simple heart- was too distraught to say anything constructive.

But besides those two exceptions of the rule, none of the others had anything to say.

As a matter of fact, what could he say, what right did he have to say anything. Yeah, he knew Asch, everyone in the Wing's did, but what could he say to those around him who didn't? Then he thought of Noir, so bitter that she couldn't be there because she was too hurt. She'd sent a letter in her absence, but it was more ramblings than anything else. The words of a distraught woman who'd loved and lost her only brother and wasn't thinking clear enough yet to actually say what she meant.

He remembered how Noir had started dying her hair red and only red after Asch had left them. She'd abandoned the moniker they'd known her as, "Noir the many colored", to become "Noir the scarlet". "A tribute" she'd said, when York had asked years ago.

Finally, he knew, Noir and Asch were friends, the closest, it was only fitting that they know of her, and of him, and of Nam Cambodia, all in one go.

It was only fitting after all…

"They shouldn't have been friends. It was that simple. He was quiet, stoic, sullen, while she was in turn loud, course, and impulsive. It should have been a war, a complete personality clash of the worst kind.

Yet, while all the warriors cast of stubbornness and pride were on the battlements, aligned in their proper rows and all the fontech devices of complicated logic, ethics, and morals were there, the expected clash never came.

Despite their difference and the chasm of years and experience –or perhaps to spite them- they drew close. Both recognized the loneliness the other hid, and it became an unspoken, unspeakable language that drew them together. Still, seeing them together was quite the sight. He wasn't boisterous, even as a child, yet she was all the bravo he'd ever needed. As his affection was slowly won it was impossible to see, for he never showed it.

There was a faint hint of a smile to his face though. A ghostly, haunted, thing which touched his lips a little more often, and that smile told us volumes. His approval –as he watched and learned from us- was as quiet as his laughter. It was a subtle slow retracting of criticisms, a rare word of praise. She in turn warmed openly, and like every other secret Noir held close to her heart she promised to tell no one and would up telling the world.

Still young enough to find that trait amusing, Asch remained calm and aloof, knowing better and more patient than she let on, Noir let the boy keep his act.

And that was the end of the Black Wings and the beginning of the Dark Dream."

He cast the torch upon the oil soaked wood, defying custom. For the pyre's of two of the same blood should be lit together, so the departed might rely on the light of each other's passing to find their way to Lorelie's light.

Turning, facing that sea of anger and distrust, York smiled at them all. The fire behind him cast his form in a halo of crimson.

"Asch never would have waited for Luke, and if you didn't know that you're all idiots."


	2. York and Noir

_Author's Note: This fic defiantly had earned a teen rating, though it's probably going to be more due to the pasts of the various members of the Dark Wings than any events in the story. Some minor spins on Noir and Urushi reveled for now. _

A Family of Idiots

Chapter One

Introductions of a sort:

York and Noir 

He had tried to get away, more than once. Testament to that was a multitude of rope burns, cuts, and abrasions. Before they'd freed him his hands had been tied behind his back. He was a small red haired thing; a scrawny excuse of a boy, whose determination to escape had been so strong that his captors had tied him up like so much baggage. Small hands had been bound with rope that had looped around the pommel of the dragon saddle, the ankles had been roped together. Even then, that level of binding hadn't been dubbed strong enough, for the length of hemp that bound the feet had been slung under the dragon's saddle.

The friction of his bonds had done horrible things to his wrists and feet. Despite the fact the boy was wearing boots the injuries on his feet were so much they carried him. His hands were so raw it looked as if the slightest touch would set them to bleeding. So his newest batch of captors bandaged his hands before they made their get away. They also took turns carrying him, for despite being small and light travel and time made him seem heavy. So the boy passed from the hands of petty pickpockets, to bandits, from convicted murderers, to whores.

Blissfully unaware of the dubious repute of his saviors, the boy only curled into the warm embrace of those who carried him. For all intents he was oblivious to the world.

Not blessed with transport drakes like the priests, the thieves had run a foot. They ran until their feet ached and their minds went blank with fatigue. The sounds of fighting and fury eventually faded away at the force of their flight. Running was a cowards act, but then what were they not but cowards? The Wings were notorious cowards. A fact they'd often proclaimed proudly after a few tankards of strong ale.

"Damn sparrows!" Shifting his grip on the child in his arms, York skidded to a stop. Sick and tired of tripping over every rock and root he gestured to the red clad seductress who'd been matching him step for step. "Noir, take him, would you?"

Hands freed up, he ripped off the eye patch. When a man rips off an eye patch in Aldurant most others cringe. Eyes could be lost to arrows in a war, an incompetent sniper could have gouged it out with a missed shot, or some sadist proclaiming York a Kimlascan sympathizer could have gouged it out with a knife. Atrocities, like hate, were the norm of Aldurant. Any of these reasons could have ascribed to the loss of an eye.

Unlike most in Aldurant would have, Noir did not look away, nor did she cringe. Both of York's eyes were whole, and their hue was a blue so intense it was almost beyond words. The thief's only "abnormality" –occularly speaking- was that the skin normally covered with the eye patch was a mite paler than the rest of York's face.

The long faced man was as pale as a ghost in the moonlight. His navy blue clothes made him seem paler than normal. Still, despite his shadow clothes his visage bore a slash of whiter white. The slash was cast in the shape of a grin. Moonlight glinted as it caught on the edges of the man's jagged teeth as he smiled around his pants of exhaustion.

"Good run?"

Shifting her burden, Noir smiled. The boy's red hair fell across her arm like a sheet of blood.

"The best, hunny."

"Sorry my dear-" Despite the fact his sides heaved York managed to convey his favorite emotion, sarcasm. "-you aren't my type."

"I'm crushed."

"You look rather hale for a lady who's just been crushed. Not flat at all." Noir rose an eyebrow at the last comment. At the ex-prostitutes motion of surprise York managed a weary chuckle. "Don't worry dear, no lady -no matter how well endowed- could catch my eye."

"I wasn't worried." Noir assured him. "Not at all, I like my men to be a little more muscular, and less... stick-like."

Just to make Noir squirm York waited a few moments before saying in an artfully sweet tone, "So do I." Right as rain, Noir flinched and York let himself laugh a little. It was good to laugh, to spite the danger. As he did so the fires in the thief's gut eased a little, and he flashed the discomforted Noir a wide grin. As they hit the rest of the rocky hill both thieves slowed their run to a trot.

Once over the hill and descending the other side they walked the rest of the way. The dragon's screams -as well as the brown haired priests howls of rage- were far enough for them to allow a small indulgence. The terrain would buy them time, it had been so steep they'd had difficulties, and where a human could not tread a bulky clumsy traveler's drake wasn't going to climb. Somewhere below on the other side of the forested hill the dragon's rider was probably trying to get his beast to go up. Failing that, he'd eventually get the bright idea to try to make it go around.

Best of luck with that, traveling drakes were skittish despite their impressive size. Legends long ago told of bloodthirsty flying lizards that would have gleefully torched the forest, their riders, and anything else that got in their way just for the pleasure of a fresh kill. The more docile descendents of those monsters turned their blunted snouts away from meat. None of them could breathe flames, and they were so tame that they wouldn't leave the road without a hell of persuasion.

In short, they'd domesticated a monster to near uselessness. Even the wings that had been the legendary monster's trademark had shriveled away under centuries of forced captivity.

"Kinda sad, that," Noir said to herself, "dragons I mean. What they've become, it's kind of sad."

"Awww, and here I was hoping you were pinning over me!"

"Oh, you're sad alright." The scarlet clad woman assured her associate with a wry grin. Then she held the child out in her arms, an obvious offering. "You wanna take him?"

"Nah, he's too short for me." Turning as red as her favorite dress Noir was only able to sputter. With a wicked laugh York turned from the woman and her offering. "Grow up Noir, that's not how I meant it. My arms are long and bony and lanky, he'd slip right through them like a boiled noodle. Just carry him a little longer, alright? Ol' Dari' set up our hidey hole a little ways away. Him and Urushi can carry the kid when we get there. Until then, just suck it up and let's go."


	3. Urushi and Darithin

_A/N: M'kay intros are done for now, now I'll start getting to the story part of all this._

Family of Idiots 

Chapter Two 

Introductions of a sort: 

Urushi and Darithin 

Ol' Dari' wasn't old, despite the playful nominative York had tagged to him. He was one of the youngest of the three. He was an impressive man, easily impressed with himself. In his prime he could have stood eye to eye with the formidable Black Lion, and since he was never out of his prime it was best to say that he was an eternally large man who rivaled small trees in height. Unlike the Lion -who was the current black star of the Maestro faction- Darithin was a cheerful man. A wide grin almost always cut across his face, and he spent his time between "jobs" whistling and humming his cheer. The curls of his outrageously thick beard and mustache were a black, coiling, coiled, obstruction of his teeth's yellow tinted whiteness.

Still he smiled, and offered that gesture freely to the "old" man who was nervously tapping his staff.

"They're takin' too long."

"Urushi, shut up."

He smiled even as he said it, and since he almost always smiled Urushi listened to the words and ignored the gesture. The squat thief shut up, but still his staff went tappity tap tap. The sound could have been soothing, if it had been measured out, steady, and had anything of rhythm to it. But Urushi wasn't a man of balance, on his feet or otherwise, so the tapping was as brainless and reliant at a woodpecker tapping away at a tree.

And like the woodpecker it was hellishly consistent.

Remembering how when he'd been a boy he had a sling shot and he'd hit those damned annoying birds with rocks the bandit fondly though of making one just so he could pelt Urushi with a pebble. But on the flip side Urushi had a thick skull, was slow on the uptake… Maybe he'd better buy a catapult, so he could pelt Urushi with a boulder. Yes, that would work, and leave a quite the impact too.

Curious as to why Darithin's smile had just widened, Urushi stopped his staff tapping. The squat thief who was eternally trapped in the pose of a squat –hence the double pun on using squat to describe his stature, or so he liked to point out with obvious pride- due to a weakness of the knees. Urushi's weapon of choice, the walking stick, was a good deterrent for jokes about his stature. At least the jokes told to his face. Urushi was blissfully oblivious to the ones whispered behind his back.

Both men had wild untamable hair. While Darithin went out of his way to do the rugged wild man look, Urushi's wild hair was wholly unintentional. The short thief sported the eternal bed head complex. That meant that his auburn hair was stuck in random wild poses that no amount of fussing could fix.

How they had tried! Darithin chuckled to himself as he remembered. Tying the man up Noir had spent a whole day fussing and combing and doing –and often applying- mysterious "woman things" to Urushi's head. Urushi's cries of shock and chagrin had turned into screams of horror when Noir, finally exasperated beyond her meager patience, had fished out a pair of rusted shears. She had determined that if she shaved the man that the new batch of hair that would come to replace the lost could be properly tamed. Darithin had called a halt to the group's game at that point.

And Noir, rebellious hot headed Noir, had fought him. York had been docile – a man on his back screeching his laughter couldn't put up much of a fight after all- but Noir had raised all hell. Darithin had asserted his authority however. He did so by knocking Noir into the dirt and wrestling the shears away from her, but he'd proved his right to run this biz and that's all that mattered.

"I was just thinking you need a trim, Urushi, it's getting frayed 'round the edges."

"No it's not."

Lifting his tall hat Urushi tugged at the edges of his hair and stuffed them under the hat. Or rather he tried. It was a partially successful endeavor that made his head seem swollen. The move also raised the hat a few inches. Still Darithin nodded, to say that Urushi was right. Let the man coddle his illusions of pristine hair before Noir –literally- sheared them down to bits.

"Look." Grinning Darithin turned his head so he was looking at the small thief. "Check supplies and empty some sacks that way we can get the hell out of here when Noir and York get back with the goods."

"Whatever you say, _boss_."

The irony of the word "boss" coming from a man too stubborn to ever have a real one when the world had been sane… It wasn't missed, and Darithin chuckled to let the man know it wasn't missed.

"Stop given me lip, "Squat"squech, and get to work."


	4. A pawn

_Author's note: Kinda short, sorry bout that, but it is an update I suppose. Sorry for the wait, comp access has been hard to get. We are now officially past the introduction stage and will now be arriving at the plot hopefully by the next chapter. _

Family of Idiots 

Chapter Three 

A Pawn

"Not bloody likely to fit in my bag, Noir." Urushi complained, giving the red haired child a nudge with his foot. "We can't sell 'er, not in this shape."

"You don't sell people, period." York snarled.

Darithin who'd been many places and seen his share said nothing. Still, it hardly mattered, both men felt passionately about their views. Both would argue the whole night if left to their own devices. Well, let them, Darithin decided. He'd let them fight and bicker for a bit, blow of some steam so it wouldn't build and cause an explosion later.

He knelt at the child's side, took a limp hand in his own, and felt for a pulse. A quick examination proved to Dari what he'd always suspected. Urushi was an unobservant fool. Well, he conceded as he let go of the child's hand, at least the _boy_ wasn't dead. Then he corrected himself grimly, not dead yet. The child whimpered at his touch, flinched, and it was that move that made the moonlight catch the small frame just right. Darithin frowned, stared at the kids wounds for a bit, then stood.

"I expected better from you Noir. But instead of goods you pick up this kid." Urushi growled at his partner, and dubious friend in disgust.

"There weren't goods." Noir countered. "Just the kid. And who says we can't make use of him? If they put that much guards on a scamp like this than he'll make a good ransom. He's probably some merchant's son or something."

Disgusted with them all York spat on the ground and stormed off.

Darithin let him. He stood then, turned to his bickering subordinates. They were only with him out of greed -Urushi and Noir- that was the only thing that mattered to either. Gald and luxury, not getting much of the latter after throwing their lot in with the Kimlascan bandit they were scrounging after the former with a hellish zeal.

"Considering what hell this kid's seen, seems like he wasn't worth much to anyone." Darithin snapped. "But he's useful, to _us_."

"What for?" Urushi snarled, not pleased to see Darithin take Noir's side.

Another facet, another game, he sighed a bit at the inanity of it all. Both novice thieves held an invisible score board in their heads, and tallied his agreement and disagreement, his humor and his ire. He sometimes wondered if at night while he slept if they actually went over their scores.

Darithin dredged up a smile for them both as he explained.

"Neither of you ever really consider what we're really fighting? Not our poorness, or our lack of food, or anything as base as that, but our real enemy. Ever wonder who or what he is?"

Two identical blank looks answered his question, and Darithin chuckled at their stupidity. York would have understood, but then that man was smarter than all hell. Having been to hell and back Darithin would say this much for York, hell was smart. To be smarter than that meant you were a damned genius, in all sense of the word.

Deciding that as a good leader he was supposed to help _enlighten_ his troops Darithin threw them a tidbit.

"Why don't you ask York 'bout it then?"

Again, they pinned him with a blank look. He ignored them and picked the kid up. The child whimpered, but curled against him, as if he was cold. Considering the rags the _sparrows_ had shipped the kid off in maybe that wasn't so unreasonable.

"Kinda scrawny," Darithin mused to himself, shifting his burden around a bit as he walked. "Maybe he's a pawn."

Only the soft patter of feet and near tangible aura of mystification at his back told him that Noir and Urushi were following.


	5. The Mark

_Author's note: Written to "Mark of the Beast Smith," by Hy Bound from Voices of the LifeStream. "Mark" suits Darithin real well, that's also where I got the name of this chapter._

Family of Idiots 

Chapter Three 

A small mark...

The orders hung in the air like a vile odor. Flat, uncompromising, all invasive, and faintly nauseating Darithin's words were all of these things and worse. They reeked of justice, of something long denied and properly -even timely!- delivered. She stared, horrified, and he smirked, pleased and so damn confident that she'd obey.

And she would Lorelie damn his Kimlascan hide for... for _knowing_! She would obey because she didn't have any other choice.. She didn't have some other place to go, some other life to live. All she had was this life, and she wasn't strong enough to live it but by any rule save his. And he knew that, and she hated him for it.

But she'd obey, and in the end -or at least for his end- he'd lead and she'd follow.

Because that's the way of Noir, she had been a follower all her life. It's all she'd ever known, it's all she'd ever been. Obedience was in her blood, and she'd probably die because of it.

And damn Darithin for knowing that too.

"He needs you Noir. He needs someone, just warm to him a little, alright? He's scared of York, scared of Urushi..."

"Why the hell would those circus freak rejects scare him?"

Fire was a writhing feet that cast the clearing about them in reds and oranges. Oily black liked at the edges of their light, a kind of anti-light that anticipated the death of their flame. The trees around them soared indescribably high, blending their dark brown to black for the moonless sky's fancy they seemed like pillars leading to the heavens itself. Back turned to it all, Noir stared at the fire, watched it cannibalize the wood that was it's lifebeat, better to stare into that mini inferno than into those blue eyes. Because, she'd look into those eyes, so warm and human, and she'd feel that thing inside her shiver and shake and break a little more.

She didn't want that. No more breaking, not now, not ever. She'd sworn it after seeing her whole world shatter around her ears. So she ignored the pleading _soft_ tone that was compassion and looked into the pitiless self consuming fire. Life was like that. You were given a line and you burned it, hopefully to go out in an amazing blaze that stuck in the mind for a little before the winds blew your ashes... your life... away.

"Don't make me order you to do this Noir. We both know that if I do you're going to screw it up. You always do when I force you into something."

"No one controls me," Noir spat. She kept her voice down though, not wanting to wake up her partners. Urushi was a crabby bastard if deprived his sleep, and York was a fragile one.

If it were a bid between which was worse -Urushi's belly aching and York's whiny puking sickness- she'd have to say that she didn't know. Both were annoying, both were inconviences, so she'd used that old axiom about prevention and cure. Darithin followed her lead for once, guided by his weakling impulses of compassion. But while he was guided by it, he wasn't ruled by the softie side either. His blue eyes got a glimmer of steel to them, and though Noir wasn't looking at him she could feel it.

"No one rules me but me. I said that to my old man, I say that to any who asks." Noir proudly lifted her head at the lie's completion. Then she made the dangerous move of meeting Darithin's eyes.

There was compassion in those eyes, a kind of "dog softness" that turned Noir's gut. She ignored that feeling and focused on the thing that mattered. There was steel and will under that softness. The sheath might have been lambs wool but the sword was fire wrought and sharp as hell. She met those eyes, looked at that face that was for once deprived of it's smile, and felt the edges of her world crack a little.

_No, not again_.

She closed her eyes, and looked away.

"Fine then, I see you're going to be stubborn. I'll give you your damned orders and you'll listen." He took a deep breath, and under the firmness of his words was a kind of back handed pity. And she hated him all the more for it. "There's a lot of ways for a penniless girl to make her way. You're too old for them my dear, and we both know that. You'll burn out in that life before you make it far, but then that's your choice Noir. No choice. You do what I tell you to do, or I leave you to the wolves my girl."

"I hate you."

"A lotta people do, Noir. That's my life." And Lorelie damn her if the bastard if he didn't sound proud as he said it!

"You and your god damned honesty!" She spat, twisting to her feet, her hands were crooked into faux claws.

"What's it going to be, Noir? My way or the wolf's way?"

"I hate you!" Her voice rose in pitch, in volume. His glare was enough to shut her up, his gaze silently demanded no only silence, but a response. She deflected the look and staled the only way she could. She turned away from Darithin and stared into the rippling black. She turned, and she hated, and she _seethed_.

He let her, he knew her all too well, and though he didn't say a word and she didn't say a word he nodded. Though she couldn't see the move his shadow –a blackness glimpsed from the corner of the eye- bobbed a little.

"God damn you." It was a whisper now, her anger was gone. The tears of frustration smarted behind her blue eyes.

"Lorelie's done that already and he hasn't knocked me off yet."

"I hate you. I hate how you exploit what I am."

"Then change what you are."

They'd done this dance before, a hundred times it seemed. His challenge was always the same her silence was always her answer. She turned, and as all the times before her anger staining her face red and trails of water trickled down from her eyes.

"Oh _bravo_!" Dismissed in the midnight drama York had kept his wits and alertness, merely shamming sleep. As the fight had taken its predetermined route he'd propped himself up on one elbow to better watch the action. Cold black eyes flicked from her surprised face to Darithin's. "How heart wrenching to see the lover's quarrel, such an edge of pathos to add to the ho-hum of our dreary journey."

" York." Darithin's hand drifted his belt. Even when preparing for sleep the man was always armed. The large thief fingered the hilt of a short sword for emphasis. "Shut up, roll over, and go to sleep."

"Whatever." York followed his orders, at least order one and two. From the quiet snigger that came from the scrawny thief it was obvious order three was steadfastly being ignored.

In perfectly foul humor, Darithin turned his gaze to Noir. There was no softness now. "Just do it Noir, I don't have time to coddle you."

"Yeah, what's it gunna cost you? Will being nice to a brat actually hurt you Noir, you that mean?" Came the sneered comment from the _sleeping_ York.

" York!" Darithin snarled.

"Well if you two love birds would stop fighting I could actually sleep!" York whined. "Instead you keep me up with all night your damn melodrama crap! I'm gunna get indigestion for sure…"

Oblivious to his surroundings Urushi snored on, Darithin tried to shut up York, and the slender thief delighted in his rare opportunity to get the one up on Noir and Darithin at the same time. The thieves four were fixated on their own problems, amusements, or rest to the point of being oblivious of two points of emerald. Two glimmers of green, framed round with black bruises, and highlighted with a mane of crimson. They watched the drama unfolding, and noted and remembered. Satisfied after an hours lone watch they closed, and the child's sham of sleep became sleep in truth. Only that sigh marked the truth from the lie.


	6. My name

A/N: A quick update, more of a teaser for the day.

A Family of Idiots 

Chapter four 

My name… 

"Don't touch me! I can manage on my own!"

It was the fifth time this morning the red haired child had cringed back from the slightest touch. All his newest batch of captors had come in contact with him and his blazing temper at least once this morning. Even Darithin, who'd watched his underling's antics with amusement, had been taken somewhat aback when the pale child had whipped to face him, an animal like snarl rising from his throat.

What was Darithin's infraction, the curious would have asked; it was to dare to support the child when the boy looked about ready to fall. The scene might have been funny if the kid weren't so serious. Even Noir had flinched back from the child's rages, all the adults were now effectively cowed by a boy that was so sickly looking York and Urushi had made bets as to when he'd fall. But the child hadn't fallen, not yet, only pride kept his pace even with theirs. And as to why he didn't flee, well the answer was obvious.

Behind them, _right_ behind them it seemed, came the monotonous tromping of iron shoed feet. The knights had abandoned their dragons, or perhaps the animal screams behind them told a truer tale. The dragons had been marked as useless and slaughtered. Regardless, the animals had been discarded and the men hunted for the child afoot.

"Gods above, I hate oracle soldiers!" York gasped as he staggered up yet another hill. Craning his scrawny neck he looked over his shoulder, his pale face waxen due to the unaccustomed exertion. "I hate them all! I'll stab 'em all in the back if I get the chance!"

Noir didn't even bother to join in on York's ranting. She just kept her mouth shut and waited. Still glaring at her, as if a mere look would make her withdraw her hand; the red haired child wiped a smear of blood and sweat from right above the eyes. The moment of weakness indulged upon, the child went back to climbing and Noir let him go ahead a little ways before following. Out of the lot of them Darithin was doing the best, and Urushi and the kid were having a tie for the worst. Whimpering with every step the deformed member of the Black Wings choked and sobbed at every step, and he was making a hellish racket because of that. All Noir really wanted to snarl at him to shut up, the words had formed on the tip of her tongue, but at the calling of his name Urushi had looked up at her...

The tears running down the man's face had stilled her words. She'd choked them down with a weak cough and shook her head to say later. But there wasn't going to be a later, she was sure, the knights must be gaining.

"Damn ingrate." Noir snarled under her breath as the child scrambled ahead of her.

But the rest of her verbal barrage stayed locked behind her teeth, for the boy's path was marred with red streaks. Blood, the kid was bleeding and not saying a word. Shaking her head, deciding she was surrounded by masculine idiots, Noir just kept her mouth shut and went on. York was swaying, staggering with every step, and looked ready to just drop over and die. Darithin was shaking, sweating, and looking like a giant plow beast that needed a good feed and some rest.

As for her, she was too vain to ask what she looked like. Probably like a tramp, oh well. Smirking despite how it hurt to smirk, the thief went on her way, forever up. At one of the rare times Darithin dared to call for a halt Noir rounded on him, or rather she wanted to. All she managed was to limp towards him, her face both scarlet and pale from exertion.

"Where… are… we… going?" She croaked.

It was the child who answered. His high pitched voice was horse from panting the last mile or so.

"The springs."

Darithin nodded.

"When we hear water, we'll lose 'em. They'll think were an opposing faction and went down."

"Down?" Noir managed to not whimper the question by a hair's breadth.

"Hell if I know where down is, but I heard some priest say there was something down below Aramis Spring or some such rot... Priests are all nuts, ever last one of 'em."

For the first time since being rudely woken at midnight by the dragon's screams the red haired child's face twisted into what might have been a smile. Darithin saw the grin and leaned back against a nearby tree to more comfortably glower at the child.

"You know something 'bout this?" Darithin grunted.

"Master Van said there was a city down, under water and earth. I didn't think he meant the springs though."

"Then how'd you guess?" Darithin pressed.

Noir, sick and tired of them both wandered off to a nearby rock and just sat, her mind going blank with fatigue, each thought was an inhuman effort. Finally she just stopped thinking altogether. She decided that if Darithin had a plan, that was good, that was fine. Now she'd just follow it like she had followed the others and hope that nothing else went wrong.

"They're the only thing near here, well except the volcano." The child smirked at the large man. He was an arrogant one, at that, and smart too. He wasn't speaking at all childlike. Noir flicked open her red fan and waved it in front of her face. Forested Daath was, comfortably cool it was not. "I didn't think you'd have me run this far if you were going to drop me in a volcano."

"Naw, I don't do roasted kiddo, sorry. Cannibalism ain't my way."

The joke was met with a weary grunt from the child, who just sat on the earth. He didn't care where he fell, that was obvious, but he didn't stretch himself out on the leaf strewn earth with a grown like Urushi and York had.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Don't have one."

Noir let the fan stop flapping, stilled it with one motion and made it click itself closed with a sharp gesture of her hand and a flick of the wrist.

"Ya gotta be kidding me." Noir snarled. "Everyone's got a name."

Green eyes met her own, he looked her in the eye and once again cowed her with his gaze. Too serious, too somber, too adult for that child's face, that was part of his power. His adult like demeanor was surreal considering that his form was that of a child. It brought back images from stories, half remembered tidbits about children who never died, who watched as their families and friends grew old and were never touched by time. Such were the 'child's stories' that she read, the stories that York degraded and mocked for being so unstudious.

"They took my name away." The red haired child said coolly, calmly. Though at his own words the ice that coated the boy's green eyes seemed to crack a bit around the edges. That breaking reminded Noir of her own, when she met Darithin's gaze half a day ago and dared deny him. Uncomfortable, Noir looked away.

"Yeah," Sounding nonchalant was the hardest thing she'd ever done today. Perhaps it was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life. "-whatever."

In her "I'm so tough pose" that consisted of looking away; Noir missed the shimmer of tears that gleamed around the edges of the child's eyes.


	7. Grace

A Family of idiots

Grace

_to my readers,_

_It's a case of attack of the plot bunny. I've had this one rattling around upstairs for a while so I thought I'd let him free to nibble on the tips of computer screens rather than take places in perfectly honest margin space. I'm taking a breather from my Shinra FF7 work, and decided that between working on the game novelization for FF7 I'd get back to some of my old, incomplete works. This one is is on the top of my "to do" list._

_Kasan Soulblade_

Ditching pursuit had been easy. A piece of cake or a slice of pastry, (the saying depended on if you asked Noir or York about it). Once up the slope and hugging the side of the mountain the trail had gone cold. Losing both trail and head the Comidant had charged headlong to the heart of the mountain while his quarryhiked along it's flank. Satisfied that the hunt was off the four people of dubious repute and their charge had begun the walk down. When they had stopped for thier light luncheon they had found a stream, and play, both.

The water was shockingly cold. The shock though was a pleasant one, the numbness that followed it a blessing. Raising their voices in gasps of surprise at their fine, the unlikely gathering of Malkuth and Kimlascan thieves acted in the most unlikely of ways.

They acted like children.

Kicking off boots and vests they plunged into the water, even the deformed, short man cast his walking stick aside and tumbled in. Racial alliances were forgotten, grudges cast aside, all for the pleasure of the moment. Grinning mischievously the red haired woman called Noir slipped behind the tall black bearded man. One half jump later she descended, bringing him down with her. Howls and hoots met that attack, and with a blush that could have done a maiden proud Noir retreated to the far shore before their leader could rise and give out retribution.

Sputtering, red face, the tall black haired man surged to the surface and managed one step towards his assailent. Hoots form the background made justice unplasable. In moments all out war was declared between the men.

At the forest's edge the child watched the thieves play with eyes wide.

Running a hand through her own locks -red today, as red as the child's hair whom they'd stollen- Noir looked upon her manufactured chaos with a smile. Smug, triumphant, and with the barest of blushes on her cheeks she looked upon the fight as if it were all her doing. Then, she looked past the fight, across the shallow river, and from the far bank looked on him. Hard eyes warmed with amusement she favored her "loot" with a backhanded kind of attention.

"Aren't you going to join in, kid?"

He'd been creeping forward without knowing. Slinking from the shadowed edge into sunlight and the laughter he was an unwitting victim of the soundless beckoning of lapping waves. Jolted back to himself, the boy cringed back at the blantant invitation. Eyes wide, he shook his head wildly, sending crimson locks swaying this way and that.

As always, when faced with opposition, Noir went the way of water. Took the path of least resistence, and she did it with grace.

"Whatever" The thief sniffed.

Whether it was ill grace or good, Noir did everything with grace. No one could ever denying that.


	8. Eschewing Sense to a Pulp

A Family of Idiots

Es-chewing sense to pulp

_To my readers, Oddly enough I'm making aweful short chapters for this piece. A little wierd for my writing style, yet it seems to work for the moent so I'll stick to it. Enjoy the update. KS_

Their next destination was picked by luck of the draw. Where others would have gone to a church of Lorelie to get their scores read these four eschewed common sense and the route was left to the toss of a Gald. Malkuth or Kimlasca, the coin had come up tails and therefore their destination would be some city in Malkuth. From there though, came the argument as to where in Malkuth they would go. Knives were drawn, threats made, four wildly different voices rose into swelling bellowed that set the birds around them to fright.

And once more common sense was eschewed.

Despite the fact that knives were in every hand shoves were the prominent weapon in this fight. And forget the more "delicate"role of the "lesser"sex. Noir shoved, roared, and swore like the rest of them. Fingers shoved in his ears he tried not to hear all the foul language they used and wasn't successful despite his efforts. Finally, when the pain inside his ears and outside his ears reached their peak he gingerly pulled his fingers out of his ears and winced.

"To Lorelies bloodiest hell Darth, we need money, not food!" Noir screeched.

"Money will get us no where if we don't have provi-"

"To hell with _provisions. _I want women and ale!" Hollered the short one.

Having yelled hims self horse the scrawny thief merely hopped up and down waving his arms like a demented, flightless, bird. His mouth was moving, but all that came crawling out between his lips was a harsh coughing sound.

Taking a deep breath, his ruddy face turned crimson for all his yelling the black bearded thief took a deep breath. He swelled, with fury and breath, and in that racket he roared two words-

"SHUT UP!"

-and was obeyed.

The silence was so startling that even the few birds that had remained dared not utter a "chirp" to break the quiet. Taking another breath, this one somewhat smaller than the last, the black bearded man let it out a sigh. No smile broke the blackness of his mane, no glimmer of humor graced his gaze, and one and all they cringed back from that sober, somber, stare.

Even he, an outsider, cringed back from that look. Cringe became a wince as those dark eyes locked onto him.

"You, boy, get over here!"

He approached slowly. Each motion as ponderous and careful as he could make it. The manner of his walk was reminiscent of the first day of his previous confinement. Where Van and the Knights had tied his ankles round with rope... Unblinking black eyes bored on him, saw the motions, and didn't comment. When he was among them, in the center of their cluster and only then, did the smile of days previous return.

"He picks." The bearded man announced, his teeth flashing among the tangle of black.

"What?"

"Ya gotta be kiddin'!"

The scrawny blue clad one managed a wheeze that had qualities of both outbursts and a note of pain to it.

Leveling one thick finger, the leader pointed to their unnamed and sullen ward.

"He picks, and that's final. Now we're going down to the bay and were goin' now and I don't want to hear any crap out of the lot of you! Got that?"

The "Yes sir's" that sounded after that pronouncement were unenthusiastic, to say the least.


	9. Birdie

A Family of Idiots

Birdie

_Review response: (I only set up something like this when a reviewer does not log in.)_

_To Locketa:_

_Laughs Well I've been working steadily on my FF7 stories "the Shirna Files" for about a half year now. I'm taking a much needed vacation from that genre and emptying out a notebook all at the same time._

_I've been a long time fan of Tales of the Abyss, and I actually like the game a lot better than Symphonia. Right now I'm alternating between two stories, this one and "The Road" which is a Chrono Cross fanfiction featuring my favoirte span of the game. But, back to the review. Yes, they are all really dense, every single last one of them (Asch not excluded) but part of this story -hopefully- will show them all growing up a little bit._

_Thanks for the review, and enjoy the upcoming segments. Kasan Soulblade_

Home was immediatly shot down. The boy's demand to be taken to Batical _right now_ had been met with gwafs from all sides, and Noir had laughed the hardest. The tell tale shimmer that rimmed those emereald eyes was ignored, and if the kid had cried... well his captors had too. They'd laughed so hard they'd cried and the red haired boy was told to pick a place in Malkuth _not_ Kimlasca.

"Ya don' do us any good if ya get home without us gettin' the loot, kid." Urushi had summed up thier sentiments.

Those words -thoughtlessly given, truthfully delivered- had worked a magic of sorts. The tear softened eyes had hardened, and from hardening they glinted like steel. York found his mirth for the day when Urushi had backed up form that gaze like it was a drawn knife. Voice still worn to a rasp the scrawny man's laugh was like the cawing of a carrion bird. And like cawing, the sound was offensive. Face scrunched up in rage Urushi lurched forward, ready to ring the thin's man neck for him.

Wading into the mix Darithin seperated the thieves form thier loot before the loot turned leathal. A small nudge was enough to prod the boy away from the brawl in the making. Taking all comers, the black bearded rouge asserted authority. A few fist swings later and Urushi and York were measuring thier length in the sod. Lips quirked in a smirk of triumph Darithin turned to face Noir and the red haired boy.

"Anyone else have anything they wanna _discuss?_"

Noir shook her head, the child only met the bandits black eyes with his green.

"Ya gotta bone to pick, Birdie?"

Silence met that statement, and unlike the quiet before it was charged with shock. The boy didn't quite widen his eyes in shock, not someone else would have. The red head child just winced then met the bandits stare with an unblinking scrutiny that was... creepy. Creepy and intense.

Finally words came, hands clenched into fists the kid took one step forward his green eyes burning with hate. "My name's not-"

"Whatever." Lifting a dirty hand the bandit waved away the protest. Then, confident that no one was going to challenge his authority Drath' used one caloused digit to prod at his newest injury. He winced in pain when he encoutered the split lip. "Noir, get the idiots up and moving, you got ten minutes. Oh, and bring the Birdie."

The "Birdie" managed two steps towards Darithin before he was grabbed from behind. Twisting the scruff of the torn tunic Noir grimly dragged the struggling boy towards her.

"Don't. He'll do worse to you than he did to them."

The answering scream of fury was muffled. All that escaped the red haired child was a harsh cough as Noir expertly twisted the fabric in her hands.

"Don't." Noir ordered one last time. Then satisfied the lesson had sunk in she let go. It wasn't her fault he was a clutz and hit the ground hard. It wasn't her fault, not any of it. But she winced all the same when he hissed in pain and curled up at her feet.

"You do what he says." She told the prone figure. "And you don't ask questions

Shoving against the ground, the red haired child found his feet and whirled to face her. His knees were skinned and bleeding, and considering the mess of bruises and rope warn fleash skinned knees hardly stood out. Not at first glance anyways. Despite herself Noir stared at the boy's newest injury and she only stopped when those knife point eyes met hers.

"I don't take orders from _bandits_." The boy spat.

"You do now." Noir informed him, a grim smile curling her lips. "'less you wanna end up like them." Tilting her head to indicate her two downed associates Noir's smile became a smirk.

And at the sight of that compassionless facade the boy's confidence began to falter.

"Come on Birdie." Noir said, "we got work to do." Turning on her heel Noir went to the downed York, never bothering to look behind.

"Don't call me Birdie." Came the sullen response.

Ignoring the reprimand she knelt at the scrawny man's side, setting one hand on the side of his neck. Finding a pulse she nodded, left him, then went to Urushi. After a seconds evaluation she judged them alive. Now the trick was going to be waking the sleeping bueaties up. Tapping her lower lip with a finger she thought, and when the idea came her lips curled into a wide, wicked, smile.

"Hey you, go riffle through my packs and find a good sized pot."

The order was such a surprise that the boy didn't explode at the nominitive.

"_W-what_?"

"I said riffle through my stuff and find the cooking pot, but don't steal anything else or I'll gut you slow."

Snarling a word that he'd just learned, "Birdie" stomped off. Whether it was to try to run off or to actually do what he was told Noir didn't know and she didn't care... at least that's what she told herself anyways. When he returned she smirked down at him. The gesture was reminescent on how her father had looked down at her. Ignoring the kid's hate filled glare when she made a show of considering him then the empty pot.

"Why isn't that filled with water, hey you?"

The red haired boy met her gaze and called her a name that raised some questions about what her mother had slep with. Amused that the kid had picked up on her favorite pet phrase Noir shrugged off the insult. To that response -which was no reply at all- the boy stormed off.


	10. Chapter 10

A Family of Idiots

_You walk the walk with a bit of a swish._

Eyes vacant to the point of empty, she approuched, her voice high pitched as a girl with half of her years and an innocence that was a delicate mix of charm and naive. The lie was given without the customary sprinkling of truth, and while that was a touch unprofessional it would have to do. THe lies were layered thick, and delivered coyly, like syrup. Layers upon layers, until even coherent thought of the truth was all but smothered. She was let through with a slightly pained expression and whiping away her "hysterical" tears she got through customs with only a quick glance.

Her "little brother", a pale faced youngster with blood colored hair, glared at her through the whole act.

That put a limit to the rush of sucsess she felt. His "I'm as annoyed as hell, and I'll BITE you if you touch me" did a lot to kill the euphoric high she got after pulling off a hiest of any size. In short, since this was a small acomplishment and only vaugly on the shady side of illigality the brat had managed to kill her good mood with a look.

And that was impressive.

The brat, hey you, or biride, -take your pick of name- had more power over her than her own concious, and -on second thought- that was _damned_ impressive.

"Do you even blink, ever?" Noir asked, risking the kids teeth for the sake of her act. She slung her arm around the boy's shoulders and drew him near. He flinched at the touch, that was a given, but she ignored the violently supressed reaction.

His answer to the question was silence, and she simply went with the flow. Blending into the crouds the mounted the oversized plank leading to thier ship of choice. While not quite a luxery cruise it was a stable Malkuth craft. Made -nostalgically- of wood, it sported masts -decoration really, they'd be ripped out in the slightesy breeze if the sails were unfluraled- and sported oars far too short to reach the water. She looked around, eyes wide, expression artfuly vacant, her stiff "sib" tightly held in her clutches.

"Foolishness." The red haired boy declaired after looking around. He had little choice but to come along for the grand tour. Noir had paced from deck to deck dragging him behind her in a talon tight grip.

"Nobles always are." Noir informed him. "Nobles and churchmen, both."

He jerked a bit at her words and looked up at her. The flush on his cheeks and the scrunching up of his face that told her she'd hit a nerve. Nothing new there, she hit a nerve everytime she talked. What was new was the fear, the fear in those green eyes. She'd seen him hurt and angry -Hell he'd been angry since the first second that she'd laid eyes on him!- but she'd never seen him shook. Not so shook that he shaked.

"Come on kid, lets get to the mess hall, it's just bread and other "holy" food, but food's food and I'm starved."

And like magic the offer of food made the kid shake off his scared mood. His eyes widened in shock and then thinned into slits as he considered her suspiciously. To that Noir flashed her most winning smile into the face of all that sketipicism. There would have been a stalemate probable, a glare and smile staredown of sorts had thier impasse not been broke by a growl. It was a gurgling growl, with an edge of pain to it, and a hint of liquid churning. In response to the noise those green eyes flickered, the impasse broke, and one red raw hand drifted to cover the rumbling stomach.

"Urshue, Urkshoe?" Making a gesture as if throwing something away, the boy gave up on his strugle over Urushi's name. "What's his name, he can't cook."

"None of them can." Noir admited with a shudder. "You would not believe what they call cooking."

"Try me." The green eyes were hard again, disbelieving.

"Fine, I will."

So she gave the boy what he wanted, going over in gory detail on her "friend's" attempts at cooking. At fist he seemed skeptical, but as the descriptions went on his complextion aquired a familiar geenish cast. Just when she was just shining off the details of York's Spicy Strawberry Rammen Supreame the kid bolted.

Noir's mocking laughter followed the boy on his way out.


	11. The Real World

Tales of the Abyss fanfic, "A family of idiots"

Chapter 11

The real world

_a/n: flash update, in honor of the TOA anime coming out I'm going to finish all TOA related stories before going back to anything else. Just finished my notes on the game (a notebook worths) and found and compiled all my notes so I'm ready to settle and publish. I've only got one day a week to write, so my time's going to be rather short, but I'll do what I can as I can. Kasan Soulblade_

_The cabin was tight, dark, and dark stained. Nostalgia had stolen the ship maker's good sense, and the ship's_ rooms had been made to painfully mimic the vessels of yore. Catching a whiff of tar and oil on the air the one they called "Cardinal" wrinkled his nose and grimaced. His keeper of the moment, the emaciated blue clad man, followed suit. Of the two of them his nose did the most wrinkling. Both man and boy had a similar gray tinge to their skin. A bucket, well used, with a crusted and a film of acidic smelling substance, stood between them. The mutual state of misery on their faces lead to a façade that both were captives.

A series of raps on the door later and Darithin strolled on, to the scene he smiled, enjoying the bends Lorelie seemed destined to throw his way.

Secret knock recognized York sheathed his dagger, the small weapon disappearing up his capricious sleeve so quick Cardinal didn't see anything more then a glint. Even though it was seen the glint's implications went unnoted, Cardinal wasn't one to enjoy sea trips since he was more sea sick then York at the moment. And… as if that thought was some probe to the kido's condition the façade of hate broke under the force of his suffering. Caridinal swallowed hard, once, twice, then made a pathetic croaking sound and reached for the bucket...

Ignoring Cardinal's suffering Darithin looked to York, his grin as wide as ever. "Havin' fun?"

"Hardly."

To that he had to grin his widest grin, and because it had to be done he went to doing it. York grunted, never seeing the humor of anything much less this. But that was York for you, typically stuck up Malkuthite. He stretched as the boy's wretching went on, rolling his head back and raising his hands. Darithin's thick fingers smushed against the ceiling without him having to get in his tip toes, but he was a large man who bypassed such nominitives as "massive" with the ease of those who had truely titanic structures. He looked down on the world, by a head and shoulders by most souls standards... At later dates others would compare him to the Black Lion -in height if not in strength- but those were later days, and with no comparisons to be made he stood as a giant against a world of small men.

"You should be greatful for York, Cardinal." Darithin said, beard bristling as he laughed. "Without York you'd be hurling up your guts _and_ blood."

Wiping his mouth with a shaking hand green eyes thinned into familiar slits of hate. If gazes were blades... Well gazes _weren't_ blades, so Darithin had nothing to fear until the kidod found a way to getting a knife. York looked bored, bored and annoyed, and full till stuffed with suffering. Ignoring the wicked glint to his leader's eyes the blonde thief was looking past Darithin to watch the door. Deadly mistake taht, _damned_ dangerous mistake that.

"Really York, I dind't know you were interested."

Cardinal squirmed at that blantant taunt. Despite his misery the kid learned quick and the second he'd learned what York was he'd gotten twice as scared of the emaciated theif than before. Nevermind that York didn't do kiddo's. If he had Darithin would have gutted him and left him to the buzzards.

"Can I leave?" The blue clad man whined.

Darithin hummed and hawed to that whining. He scritched at his beard and looked serious and somber, like he was considering the fate of a Kimlasca lalvendear or something big like that, and York just looked up at him oozing a pathetic kind of tired.

"I guess." The leader of the Dark Wings growled.

Sprining to his feat faster then a fon tech trigger York was on his feet and out the door quicker than quick.

To that Darithin had to laugh, he just had too.

Green eyes slid from the retreating York to him, sharing the hate. Freely giving animosity to one and all. But gazes weren't blades so Darithin wasn't worried. Not a whit. He took his place in York's stool, his long limbs sprawling as he applied his rear to the seat with such vigor the chair creaked like it was gunna break.

"I bet you'd give your last hope of Lorelies' brightest heaven for one bit of information."

silence was Cardinal's answer... silence and a quick look away like he wasn't there. Cardinal looked to the place York had been looking. The door, an out, that's all that mattered in Cardinal. Having been in a few prison cells himself Darithin could sympathize.

That didn't stop him from playing with the hilt of the knife that was twisting in kiddo's guts though.

"You want out, not just off this ship and away from us. You want out from something bigger, something nastier then just a bunch of brigands and whores."

Avidly looking at nothing in particular Cardinal didn't speak. Nothing new with that, kiddo hadn't spoke once for the half week of this voyage. Not to him, or York, or Urishi... and only half words were offered to Noir.

"You don't get busted up the way you were for playin' by the rules." Darithin said complacently. The brigand leaned back, letting his eyes close half way. He considered the mirky dark wood world around him, bored by it all. Under him teh axel pitched and heaved, but the brigand had dabbled in sailing before and knew how to roll with the rocking. "Knife's in the left side of my belt, your right." Darithin offered helpfully as he folded his arms over his flat gut.

"W-what?"

Voice hourse from disuse, harsh with surprise the Dark Wing's Cardinal didn't have a very melidous voice, nope, not one bit. Darithin faked a yawn so he wouldn't laugh.

"My knife, the one you wanna take from me to slit my throat. Your right, on my belt. 'Sall yours. Course, if I catch you going for it I'll kill you messy."

To that threat a normal kiddo would have shrunk back, his eyes wide, his face palid. Kiddo though wasn't a normal kiddo though, his green eyes went distant, contemplative.

"Course, if you kill me, you got York and Noir, and Urushi, to deal with." Darithin reminded him, smiling as his eyes closed all the way. "And if you kill all of us you got the law to deal with, so killin' me might not be the best idea right now."

To that the kiddo growled, the bed creaked as the kiddo on it voilently turned away from him, and from temptation

"Just thought you'd wanna know how things stood, you know, in the real world, 'fore you got any ideas."


	12. Dark Wing Dark Dream, part 1

A Family of Idiots

Chapter 14

Dark Wings... Dark Dream: part one

"It I were a wagering man I'd be thinkin' you'd give every prayer of Lorelie's heaven to know where you was." Arms folded over his jutting gut Urushi grinned at his charge, considering Cardinal from under half closed eyes.

Cardinal, as always, said nothing. But that was nothing new. The Wings went worried about there newest targets lack of cooperation. They were excelent baiters, tossing half bits of information, jerking it away just as the juices hit the tongue. Eventualy, out of frusteration it nothing else, Cardinal would talk. It was just the mater of throwing the right bait down and jerking it away at the right moment.

Like always Cardinal looked through Urushi, like he looked through York, through Darithin, always he stared at the door leading out, his gaze never blinking. Though the whole sea trip he'd done the so, and now after an extended trek through Chesidonia's sandy alleys and back ways to the Wing's final destination -an abandoned storage shed that reeked of fish- Cardinal played the same game. Not one prone to change, Darithin's acquired birdie, no matter the circumstance.

The Black Wings then, must have been a jolt of shock to the Cardinal's system. Prone to changing guards, shifts, attitudes, and demeanor at every encounter, the polite word for the Wings would have been mercurial. It wasn't the word the boy they called Cardinal was thinking of. Acting as if he was untouched by all around the red haired child stared at the door while Urushi prattled on about the heat. As he talked the deformed man's staff making a dull meaty drum roll against the thief's thigh.

Not even bothering with rope -none of them ever bothered with rope- Urushi had plunked Cardinal on a stool stolen from the ship. That had been the first time, and on that long ago watch with Urushi the red haired child had tried to split. The child hopped to his feet as quick as thought and the masterful swing of Urushi's cane had made him stop. A very good thing he had, since the edge of that cane had hit nicked the ground with a steely hiss. Herded back to the chair by a staff that was not a staff Cardinal had gotten his first lesson in respecting his captors. Deformed and slow Urushi was, but those traits paled in the face of the squat man's relentless nature. Drawing blood in his herding, Urushi's cane had brought home a deadly lesson as well as blood.

Cardinal was expendable. That grim lesson was reinforced by the lack of healing on York's part.

Running a hand over the half healed scab that ran along his cheek, the boy they called Cardinal looked to his short captor. He studied the man from the corer of his eye. All the Wings had already shamed sleep to encourage him to run off and each attempt had been stopped near completion. Hope had been allowed to rise before it was dispelled by the swing of a staff, or knife, -or in Darithin's case, by fist applied to the back of the head full force- by the fated, hated, words.

"You ain't goin no wheres Birdie."

A rap -controlled, and delivered at a crisp staccato- on the shed's back wall made the fat thief's eyes flare open. Snorting at the false "awakening" on the short man's part Cardinal folded his arms over his chest. He increased his glowering at the door to a magnificent sulk. Urushi snorted at that, took amusement at the Birdie's pout. A click told the one they associated with birds that the back door opened, a creek told him it closed. Not bothering to look up Cardinal set his chin against his sternum, pressed it so hard that it hurt.

"Hey Noir."

To that Cardinal looked up, some of his icy manner fading. He liked Noir, though the woman whined a great deal for an adult. Realizing that by showing interest Cardinal was in turn showing weakness the boy they called Cardinal sunk into himself. Going from interest to sulk a minute tops, Noir almost laughed at the show the boy was giving them all.

"Darithin wants you out back. He's got a job for us tonight before we move on."

"Public or private?"

"Depends." Noir countered, her voice smooth and mysterious. She all but oozed a wicked grace.

But wicked or not, it was grace. Mannerisms sheathed in grace of any kind were hauntingly familiar and sorely missed for one soul in the room. Cardinal lifted his head a fraction and pretended to renew interest in the door.

He might have fooled Urushi, but not Noir, the red haired thief bit her tongue to keep from howling with laughter.

"And clean the boy up, Darithin wants him outside too." Noir ordered her voice oddly thick and a bit distorted.

"What!" Urushi howled.

Cardinal jerked his head about to look at Noir. Never knowing how his wide eyes mirrored the petty thief's startlment.

"You heard me." Noir purred to both males, suppressed laughter making her voice rise to higher octaves. "Clean the boy up."

And with a sensual twist of her hips she sauntered on, untouched by there confusion. Falling into the habit gained from a life long gone, Noir's hips swished, making the skirt around his waist dance of it's own accord. Urushi wasn't the only one who had to pick his jaw up from the floor after the free show ended with a door slamming "bang". To the thief's credit his face wasn't as red as Cardinal's own, it wasn't even a match for Cardinals' hair... But it was a close call and a hard tell, by any man's standard.


	13. Dark Wing Dark Dream, part 2

A Family of Idiots

Chapter 14

Dark Wings... Dark Dream: part two

Sorry about the flash updates, I'm only getting an hour a week to update so I'm micro slicing everything down so I can update at least once a week. Again, I appologize, I'm not thrilled with the limitations and will do what I can to remidy the situation when I can. Regardless, an update, per my promsie. Kasan Soulblade

As a noble of Kimlasa Lalvendear there were expectations. The first was a manner of image. No matter the siuaton be it dire or carefree, a nobel's place is to lead. For leading is a score given gift given to those of virtious soul who are born as nobels. The second is a manner of honor. Not Lorelie bound, but mortal crafted and patened. Honor was a set of rules and regulations that had to be held up at all costs.

Of honor... it runs three fold. Personal poise, personal presence, and dedication are it's tires. Of the first, he upheld that with ease. Refusing to show shock and fear no matter the circumstance. Inexperiece limieted his repitour, but inexperience would -grudginly- be pardoned by his lord-father. With only twelve years of life to his name thus far perfection was hardley to be expected, lavishly awarded when it occured, but it's lack was pardonable. Effort counted to one so young, and considerng how he hand held to his silence for almost two weeks he'd spent in the theives company his sullen facade amounted to a great deal of effort. He spent most of each day blocking his newest batch of captives' attempts to get to know him. Wielding the blades of frusteration and anger he'd warded off questions, and banished there scanty compasion with practiced ease.

And for all his pain and lonliness the first and third requisit was upheld with little cost.

It was the second that was constantly tried. His clothers were stoeln relecs of the lwoer class. A step up from the pauper's rag Van's men had foisted him off in, said rags had been burned a long time ago, but the Dark Wing's clothing was hardly a match for what he was used to. A tan tunic and black pants, both poorly fiting, the later was too small the latter too large, were the clothes of the moment. Unremarkable and bland his attire was not of soft silk and ramine. But, on the other hand, consdiering the attire of his captors he was a lucky soul to be clad so humbly. Consider Urushi's garbm confliciting colors and patterns, strips ran there rigid path overlapped by poka dots, reds, greens, blues and yellows ran rampant colors. Urushi, to put it gently, had more conflict on his person then what existed on the Kaitzur bourder. Of York, the man was clearly Malkuth and proud of his heritage for he wore every shade of blue imaginable. Despite being monocromatic the slender man found ways for his attire to clash. It was a matter of shads, near indigo and palest ice blue did not go together, but nevermind fasion York was determined to wear blue in every hue imaginable. And considering his scant frame it was a miricle that he had almost succedded. Fond of frills and ruffles, the one eyed bandit looked... puffy... blue and puffy. And from time to time the boy they called Cardinal could get a whiff of a musky perfum lingering over the small man's frame.

Noir was York's oposite extreame chromatically speaking, she wore only red and wouldn't tolerate a stitch of blue on her person. Unlike York she did not bother with frills and trailing sleeves. Her garments were crisp, clung to her every curve with shocking boldness, a boldness that was redoubled by the vibrant blood red that swathed her frame. Noir's hair color, was something that always changed. Since entering Chesedonia she'd had it dyed twice. Once a raven wing's black, another time a Malkuth blond. Her eye color did not change though, for vain, comfort loving Noir would not tolerate the headaches that fontech eye color changing lenses gave her. She always smelled sweat, of flower scented perfumes, without even opening his eyes he could tell she was watching over him when her "shift" rolled around. She grumbled and swore like the rest of them, and he tired not to hear those words and just focus on how she smelled... But it was not Noir who was responsible for his present attire, though clad in a appealing color Noir was ever fond of accessories. Determined to hold onto something, be it her sea shell shapped face powder holder, a mirror, or her broad fether edged red fans. She held onto those items like a knight would a sword. Death wouldn't lightn the woman's grasp on those irrelevent knick a knacks. And Noir, thinking she was the height of fassion had tried to argue for clothes of simular style (red, daring, and most imporatntly... red) at the start of the red haired childs' captivity.

It was Darithin who'd ordered them to back off. Wide eyed (and honor be damned, those three thieves approuching with such clothes that they were bound and determinted to fost him off in was a sight well deserved of terror!) Cardinal had cringed back from them all when they had approuched him with there "suggestions". It was Darithin who'd roared them down, hearded them out, and presented the much releived Cardinal with his present attire.

And considering Darithin's massive built it was little wonder that there was such a cronic lack of scale involved with the Cardinal's garb.

As he was walked, no leash involved Urushi's staff at his back was enough to keep him going forward, Cardinal dared not breath too deep out of fear of slitting his shirt. His pants holding to the opposite extream hide his feet rom the world. He stumbled, and at his near fall a stealy staff tip proded him. With a wince, he'd never yalp in pain in front of these... clowns, Cardinal picked himself up from the dust encrusted world. Color and motion were predominant in Chesedonia. The summer's heat blurred the finer details in a skien of missery, but the vast weave of fabric (tents, robes, and flags) made a cascade of colors flow into being at the barest breeze. And the voices... sharply accented Malkuth words, Daathan melodic tones, and the abrupt barks of Kimlascan merchants, battered at his ears, an alien wall of sound. All this stood out in his sleep deprived, suffering, mind. At a latter date, when he was weaned off of his exhaustion, tempered by life to deal with discomfort, he would come to this place once more. Upon his second visit he would stand in awe, idly watching varied peoples of Audrent mingle over the excuse of comerance...

But that was his second visit, his first was a thing of temepered wanderlust and exhaustion mixed in with a healthy does of hate towards his most twisted of captors.

As if sensing the bent of his throughs by the tightening of the boy's shoulders Urushi proded his captive again with the staff.

"Get up."

Cardinal did so, glaring back at his captors with undisguised hate.

Urushi, having born the brunt of there captive "birdies" bites and kicks -it'd been a hell of a fight to get him out of that abandoned shed, just as the vindictive Cardinal had planed it- Urushi wasn't feeling the smallest bit nice. Noir, a bit more knowledgable of the discomforts brought on by style, flashed Cardinal a grin.

"Hold up your pants by gripping the fabric around your thighs." She suggested. "You won't trip up that way."

A snort -the closest thing the boy had pulled to talking since the Wing's initial run- sounded out, and Cardinal pridefully ignored the advice and went on his merry way without paying heed. He managed three steps before tripping again. Shaking her head Noir laughed long and loud. Urushi leanded forward to prod at the fallen form with his staff again.

Such was the compassion of his captors.

Picking himself up Cardinal ground his teeth and turned to look back at them with tear rimmed eyes. Despitethe weakness of his gaze his tone was stern, comanding, as per to his heritage.

"Where are we going?"

"To sing for our supper." Noir teased, telling him something and nothing all in one pass.


	14. Dark Wing Dark Dream, part 3

Family of Idiots: chapter 14

Dark dream dark wings part 3

Sing for your supper was an old Daathian snub. Scorers were people capable of harnessing the seventh fonon were made to sing. Day in and day out, at whim of the people if need be, thus had decreed Yulia Jo. With the founding of her order would be the founding of humility. Another boon of the policy would be that the rich and the poor would be serviced to have Lorelie's light illuminate there world. So it was such that outside of the stronghold of Daath a Scorer, if he wanted to eat, would offer his art to one and all. Thus the mighty were kept humble and the Score available to all.

Still, the taste of humility was bitter, and through the common lay was that a Scorer must sing for there supper that didn't mean the Scorers had to like it.

There lay the heart of the snub.

When Noir's green eyes had lit up and she dragged him to one of the few still places on the Cheesidonian streets the Cardinal's blood had gone cold. They weren't going to be any singing, he knew that instinctively. Noir wasn't a Scorer, she was a thief, and thieves and villains thrived on melodrama. Bounding up the thick wooden steps, each step jarring a cloud of dust, she ascended the one patch of shade and stillness that ran alongside the trading town's border like she owned it. Leaning against the outermost pillar of the porch was a pair of glowering soldiers, the more distant one was clad in Kimlascan red, the closer swathed in Malkuthite blue. It was the blue clad soldier who casually craned his head back to better look at the person who approached him with such a light step. The gesture; with all of its sedate motions, were all a deliberate insult to the Kimlascan who took grim watch on the porch's far side. At least that was the motions initial intent, when the man saw who approached a smiled graced his lips and he actually looked… pleased to see the woman. While the one they called Cardinal struggled with that outré revelation the young woman's game went into play.

"Mistress Noir!"

The soldier opened his move with a smile and show of pleasure, to that Noir beamed.

"Weapons Master Erick," she breathed each syllable as if it were precious, lingering on the salutation. Her eyes were wide, vapid, and utterly adoring. "I'm so sorry we were late."

The soldier chuckled at that, the perfect image of the magnanimous spirit made flesh. Even as the Malkuthite man turned friendly his red clad counter part looked grim and began to finger his short sword.

To that Cardinal groaned, would have buried his face in his hands save Urushi had poked the Cardinal in the small of the back with a walking stick.

With a bow the man Noir had dubbed Erick lead the red clad woman to the one point of neutrality in all of Auldrant. It was an imaginary plane, there, but not there, and deathly important to the soldier's of both nations. Blood had been spilled over it's length and width, wars wagged to push it forward or back drag it back a few feet. It was the boarder line of divided nations, the precious span was marked by a thick wooden pillar baring twin signs, one was painted a bloody red the other a mockery of water's blue. Besides that pillar had been placed a barrel, Noir squealed in delight at the sight of the battered dusty thing, giving Erick an impromptu hug before taking her stand on the wooden container with ease of an acrobat.

Thus, the singing had begun, not the song of Scores, of history's never-ending dirge, but a melody sung by a bird of a different feather.

Virtues were exposed, tales alluded too but not told, swaying slightly with the rhythm of her chant Noir offered a faux Score of sorts. Where Scorers were still creature's cast from the stone of immutable destiny the thief fell into a rhyme and cadence of her own. While not so exuberant that she… bounced; she did a slow dance of sorts as she talked.

Enthusiasm, genuine, unfeigned, made the woman's face alive. Her sharp green eyes became alluring under influence of a warmer emotion rather than the repellant sulk that her soul normally harbored held. In response to Noir's "singing" there came a crowd, drawn to the tall red haired woman and her… charisma.

"Charisma" was the only word that fit. While comely Noir was hardly a breath taking stripe of her kind. Her voice was far from melodious, and her words weren't laced with silk as were the practiced tongues of the noble class.

Still the crowd built, slowing those who wanted to cross the boarder afoot. To that obvious violation of order and the potential international incident –red clad merchants were glaring at there blue clad counterparts and everyone sane in Auldrant always walked armed- the Kimlascan guard snarled to the singer on the barrel.

"Get away from there, woman!" Short sword drawn the red clad man approached the crowd. "Disperse you scum. You're slowing traffic…"

With a bow to graceful her detractor Noir hopped from barrel to porch. And the woman's footing once infallible faltered, she swayed, arsm snapping out in an instinctive pinwheel motion. Violating the boarder laws of both nations the Malkuth leapt forward, reached out, and caught the red clad lady before she fell.

"You alright, miss?"

Urushi snickered, and the Cardinal's green eyes widened at Noir's daring. In front of a crowd well within the double digits the thief had idly picked the man's pocket. If any saw though, they didn't comment.

Voice a little breathy, face baring a forced flush, Noir smiled weakly. "I'm fine now, officer."

The last was a line plagiarized word for word, even adopting the cadence from the old clichéd play that the one they called Cardinal knew and hated... It was a very bad line from a trite romance that boy's mother had loved and –literally- had read to pieces. Hearing it now, he responded as he had the first time he'd heard it, the boy they called Cardinal rolled his eyes and sighed.

Taking the red haired boy's sigh as a criticism Urushi lashed out and the Cardinal bore the brunt of another smack.

"She's damn good, brat." The squat man huffed.

As if he was arguing _that_.


	15. Dark Wing Dark Dream, part 4

Family of Idiots: chapter 15

Dark dream dark wings part 4

_To my readers, This acutally was the original ending for the last chapter, I thorugh it was a good intro for his one however as I liked where the other cut off. Written to "brilliant road". Kasan Soulblade_

They made a few more storps along the poorer sections of town. Noir would find a still place, a span devoid of people and color and would loiter only to fill that still place with a song and dance all her won. After the thrid stop Cardinal's jaw had ceased to dislocated at the graceful woman's absent thefts. The fifth time thorugh Noir chearily hopped down forom ehr latest pearch -a barrel, again- and with a dusty landing joined her associated amongst the masses. Urushi aprouched, trusing cardinal's too large pants to bind the boy in place, he waddled up to Noir and give the woman a heary back slap. The boisteroius move stagered the red clad woman a few steps, but she held her balance without mischanc,e and seeing a chance to gloat, indulged. Smiling wide despite the rough handeling and shaky landing Noir wove her way to the Wing's captive.

"Still in awe of me, sweethart?" The red clad woman purred

Cardinal didn't bother to speak, he just let the thin slits of his eyes and the sour turn of his lips do all the talking. Noir laughed to that, giddy on her victory she dared a bite by companionably draping an arm over the boy's shoulders. Catching the not too subtle threat -those shiny whites weren't bared in a smile, no sir'ee- Noir let her arm fall away. Still, she was a thief, a scoundral, and unable to resist temptation she gave the boy a parting tug of the hair.

Somehow, someway, that motion broke the iron resolve in the child's eyes. The bitterness disipated as Cardinal winced back form the tug. He cringed realy... acting like the play pull had hurt. Then, in a gesture so smooth it could only be a by product of obsessive habit, he smoothed the displaced locks with a dusty hand.

"Don't do that." He grunted.

"Whatever."

"It hurt."

To that Noir chuckled, and daring the pinch of Cardinal;'s teeth she drapped an arm over the child's shoulders once again. No snarl greeted the contract, and no prideful "don't touch me's" resounded. Smiling down at her way ward charge Noir laughed in his upturned face.

"My heart bleeds." The red clad woman murmurred, her green eyes cooly contemplated her loot. Perhaps seeing the softening of the boy's gaze she made a motion of amazing bravery. She allowed another arm to join the first, and drape became a light embrace.

"What heart?" Came the boy's gruff rejoinder, greed eyes bulging at the shocking amount of contact the villan was giving him.

Arm twined around his shoulders, the other rested on the boy's head, a mocking benidition. That hand atop began to slide down, fingers idly raking the scalp then twining through locks of red. Pulling the boy close, a cruel smile on her lips, the scarlet clad thief gave the boy's hair another playgful tug before breaking thier lock with a shove. He staggered upon release, almost fell to his knees, but managed to catch himself. One hand holding a grip on a sun baked wall, the other holding up his oversized pants to preserve his dignity, Cardinal didn't _quite_ snarl at the woman's prank.

"Give the boy a medal for preception." Noir mocked, hands on hips, her whole posture positivly daring the boy to lash out with either a bite or a curse.

And Urushi, having had to deal with the boy's bestial snarls and curses could only shake his head and marvel when "Cardinal" laughed.

XXX

That night the Dark Dream preformed, standing upon the wooden planks tha stradled the border where Noir had begun her rounds. With two hours of work draping lengths of fabric painted into fanciful images and puting on elaborate costumes -and flitching a few materials here and there to finish a few of those costumes- they turned the dust choaked span of wood into another world.

And from that world wonders occured.

Stories from old odd worlds, two worlds in fact, were comdined and than rent asunder. Impossible histores played out in a placed a miliin years removed from this one. And perhaps most wonderful of those wonders was thatthere was no score. No wise men of Lorelie gave justification to the folly of man, the acts of betrayal were played without the excuse of devine exposition and predestination.

For that there were a few hisses and boos, a few threatening glares, but only few, and the production did not ended in a riot as he had expected.

Where they had gotten the time to practice, he was unsure, the goods had been preserved in the abandoned shed where they had stowed him and everything smelled fishy. Literally, it reeked of fish. Still the crowd presevered and the show went on. Fairy tale was blured with fact, and for once the captive was not held in place with coersion but interest.

With a cruel laugh and flowing cape, one eye concieled by the omnipresent eye patch -over the left eye this time, not the left the Cardinal noted- Yoprk served as a passible villiam His crackling laughter made the croud shudder, though more at it's pitch rather than the man's adopted diabolical persona. The flickuring light of the tourches and the thick layers of costume obscured the scrawny man's weakness, the script covered for the rest. Urushi served as the hero's best firend, his odd stature making the puns all the fuinnier and those jokes were complied with a series of "accidents".

Out of the crowd, only Cardinal was aware that most of the short man's "fumbles" were actually accidents. He laughed the hardest and loudest when one of those lapses made the heros' weapon go flying and nearly skewer the anti-hero, Darithin. How the massive man's had eyes widened in terror as the weapon's flight almost conected to a very vulnerable place. Darithin's dodge was to throw himself to the floor, and the dust choked boards nearly cracked under the impact. Red clad, vibrant, and playing the fool -matching fantasy with a bit of reality there- Noir served as the stuborn, thick headed, hero.

The resulting curve of his lips as the bplay wore on was made unawares, and to the observant the smile was a touch indulgent.


	16. Blood for Gald

Family of Idiots: chapter 15

Blood for Gald

A week with Noir, following the red clad thier and watching her work as a living, breathing, avertisement for the Dark Dream's plays had been his aprentinceship. His night -when he wasn't sleeping- were spent watching the antics his captors pulled upon the nearest, largest "stage" that woudn't evict them when they garnered mixed reviews.

At least that's how it had been at first. "You eat, you sing" had been the scrawny thief's growled words after the close of the eighth play. A mop had been thrust into his hands, and the menacing glare the scrawny man had pinned in the red haired boy was enough to make the costume seem something less than comedy and a step closer to truth. So he'd swept with a mop, growling newly learned curses under his breath at the stupidity of it all. A yawning, good humored Dari had stood lax guard over him while he worked. At labors end the thief had givne the boy a gift for his immaculate work. So weary from the unexpected physical exertion -cleaning, he'd grudgingly learned that day, was hard work- he hadn't seeen the thief's arm tense or even note the throw. He was hit by the gift and instinctivly snapped some of the more vile word's he'd learned from listening to Urushi while the squat man had been running form the Oracle knights. With a indifferent smrk on his lips Dari had left, not bothering to reply to the hollow threats, he left Cardinal to whatever designs the boy had in mind.

And for once... running away wasn't one of those plans. He didn't dare, not in this hot inhospitale land where half the poeple were his enemies and the others could be made so by an order by any Daathian priest. Muttering more of those forbidden words he bent down and picked up the leather offering, in his fuzzy state it took him a minute to understand what he held, but once he did the words left his lips in a hiss of surprise.

For in his hands he held a belt, shabby yes, that went without saying. The accessory was obviously a hand me down garnered from a trash bin somewhere... But all that paled when you considered the addition to the loop. With trembling fingers he brushed off the omnipresent dust form the belt's patrosion, traced the loop with work reddened hands not quite daring to breath.

For attached to the belt was a sword loop. A poor man's sheath. It was in truth as the name alluded, only a loop of leather stitched to the belt's side -the left side, his off hand not less- but what it signified, what it could hold...

That was the most telling of all.

XXX

A wild insanity had marked his first days since being wrenched from home. day's of breakneck travel and lonely nights.. of differing routes and casuall assasinations. Trust once sacred had been lost, and so he'd held onto the old with teeth and nails, refusing to deviant in manner from what he had been... Even when his stubornnes was lethal.

He'd suffered for pride, had suffered beatings and whippings, had been even tied to the back of a dragon when he'd proven unruly enough to be beyond the most grudging of trusts.

Now, with a differnet form of incentive held before his eyes he toed the line and praticipated... if not enthusiastically t least willingly. Helped up by a caloused hand he found his pearch, and so finding it swayed only a little as balance quickly followed. Eyes were drawn to him, his palce face -only faintly tingued red with the sun's heat- and his scarlet hair were a draw and wide green eyes were a stark contract to a people who's norem were sunweathered tan and dark brown. Swallowing a fiant taste of nausia and fear he looked down at those who looked up. Seeing a sizable number of gazes considering him and his odd actions he forced a smile then. A smile and an air of cheer he most definatly was _not_ feeling would be the start to a much practiced -and loathed- charade he must pull five times a day.

Out of all the bribes, the threats, and rages of his thieving captors Darithin had looked into Cardinal's eyes and offered him a reward beyond price. The temptation the thief had presented was beyond a man's means to counter -much less a scared, half healed boy's-, and he'd fallen into the trap all willingly never knowing how his three other traveling companions had fallen for Darithin's silken words before him.

"You wanna go home you pay yer way." Dari had told him, smile still in place, black eyes glinting with an odd exultion. "You pay us and you get what's left over. Fifty-fifty slice and no question when we orders you."

And seeing no other way back he'd folded. Plying a skill far below his bareing and status he cajoled crowds and charmed the masses drawing from skill garnered in a world far distanced from the simple existance Darithin and his kind wallowed in. His words were soft, his vocie comanding, coaxing, he plyed a silken skien over a rough jingle, and was rewarded when the occasional coin fell into the blue cap York had loaned him to lay at the barrel's base.

He wasn't the mewing innocent brat Noir had wanted him to act, far from it, and that unexpected slant was a novelity the people of Chessidonia paid good Gald for. In a city of wealth and splenders he was unique, and that was a draw that doubled the value of the gald in his barrowed cap. Swaying, he fell into the rythem of his pitch, rocking back and forth, the grooves of his boots secured in the curl of the barrel's rim.

And, heady on each victory -for each Gald was a step closer to home!- he almost laughed as he remembered how in awe he'd been of Noir. Foolhardy and daring, teasing the edge and risking a fall with her flow of words. Now that he knew the secret -_the groove of your boots goes _here, Noir had murmurred, setting his feet that first time before leaving him to his fortunes- he could only be amazed how such a simple sunt had stolen his breath away and had made him respect Noir. She'd been taking chances, he'd thought, running risks while small in scale each chance was made at a rate that had made them large once compiled into a whole...

But Noir had never been taking chances. As he'd fallen more and more into the paterns -mad at first, but fast becoming familiar- of the Wing's lifestyle Cardinal had learned something about the red haired woman called Noir. That _something_ was too shallow to be dark but certianly too mundane to allow the woman to rise to any type of greatness, and that truth was this; Noir would never risk her hide to draw the by passer's eye. In her mind Noir's life held more worth than a cheep peice of Gald and some specticle, so Noir would hold fast to life, taking few to no risks and coveting every second like a miser addoring idle Gald.

Eyes accustomed to a sea of motion that was his crowd -his catch, Urushi turmed it, a note of grudging admitation in the squat man's voice- he had long ago stopped watching for the red and blue garb that declaired nationalities. Such scrutiny had made him nervious, and his edgyness had shown lowering his "catch", so he learned how to ignore the colors once pivital to his life. Instead of colors he focused on the tops of thier heads, refusting to allow his gaze to drift down into that sea of eyes. Head swathed in blonde hair, brunette tinted gold around the edge upon noon, sweat trails brought the dark out of brown trading all the darker hues for black, such was the colors of his world while "singing". The sights were limited to the details caught on the edge of his vision, his goal -besides geting funds quickly and not forgetting his script- was to keep his ears open. In a palce of motion, of color as was the Chessidonia market place, it was the ears that were least likely to be decieved. The ears caught the nauscence of "not right" before the eyes, they deduced the under current of muffled steps of the sneak approuching, they cuaght whispers under a shop owner's hawking.

So Cardinal listened while he spoke, a rarity in Auldrant, and it was an odd metaliy "chink" that cuaght his ears and drew his eyes down.

Amongst the copper one pieces now lay a piece of gold.

The words, preararanged and drilled into his skull came to a faultering halt as he traced the gold pieces' most likely flight and his green eyes met blue.

Swathed in Daathian black, the robes of a pilgrim, only blue eyes could be seen under the shawl that wound around her face. Still the angles, extream as they were alluded to a thin stark face that he remembered too well... and those eyes, blue yes, but colder than any Batical winter storm by far. She padded up to him, his perch, one hand imperiously extended.

"My lord, come down from there. That is not your place."

Something hot and bitter flared in his breast, he knew that voice and for hearing it his lips curled into an expression no fool could mistake for a smile. He hissed her name like the slender one hissed curses, the sound had something of steel to it, something of a rasp, like a sword being pulled from it's scabard.

"Legretta."


	17. Shadow of Glory

Family of Idiots: chapter 17

Shadow of Glory

_A/N: Present chapter is written to "Wep'keep, piano version" from the "Okami" soundtrack. Tried to edit it before putting the story up –I actually had time to edit… mainly because I forgot the other three chapters I meant to transfer today- but I hope you guys enjoy the updates as I went downtown to update this week and was able to get two hours of writing time this time._

He cringed from the offer, shook his head in denial so had that his red hair slapped his face with stinging force. One step, reminiscent of a childish prelude to flight, was enough to upset his precarious perch. His foot pressed down firmly on air and his leg slid down the barrel's side. Seconds later he was on his back, landing with a loud crash. Clenching his teeth against the pain Cardinal slowly pulled himself to his knees, from knees he dredged up the strength to drag himself to his feet.

Startled by his sudden fall Legretta the Quick was not moving as swift as her moniker would suggest. Perhaps she just didn't want to sully the fine black garments that served as her garb in touching him. Still, he could feel her eyes, and the command in them, the demand he return to his "place".

Recalling that "place" and it's subsequent tortures and the mandatory journey that took him farther and farther from home, he was hardly going to leap at the chance to return with the God General. He'd meant every second of his refusal and wouldn't take one of those moment's back even if it would spare him whippings and fasts along the miles when she recaptured him.

"My lord?" He hand had dropped at last, and the woman's head tilted quizzically to the side.

"L.. Leave me alone!" He screamed.

Her eyes were akin to ice in their distance and inhumane chill. She stared down at him, the woman's thin lips were pressed into the barest of lines, while he couldn't see her face he could imagine the expression, he'd seen it often enough during his first capture. And he hadn't missed it for a second during his duration with the Wings. Around but untouched -save to find the drama unfolding an unexpected rare treat- the crowd was unanimous in its indifference. Perhaps confusing the tension as an act, perhaps made stupid by the noon heat, they stood an impassive wall of humanity.

Well, most of them. Not all were made placid by the sun's hellish heat.

"Refusal is not an acceptable answer Lord Fa-"

"Then why offer the boy a choice?" Growled the familiar -and so welcome!- voice. Though this was one savior was so unexpected it made the one dubbed Cardinal blink in surprise. Standing over the masses by a head Darithin pushed his way o the front, teeth bared in a smile unlike any smile ever seen before. There was nothing of mirth to the expression, nothing of hate. It was merely a show of teeth or the sake of baring teeth, and only the man's tone gave the gesture it's grim overture. Pack slung over his shoulder, Darithin approached Legretta, each step as slow and plaid as could be. He was clad in a universal drab brown, the cut of his clothes neither elegant nor rags but some median between the two.

Not taking her eyes from her prey, Legretta ignored the question, and took one step forward. Clearly she was going to deal with the grime and dirt and just snatch him up and run. Seeing the familiar determination in those cold eyes, Cardinal tensed. More then ready to make that task as hard as possible.

"Boy said he wasn' going" The massive brigand pointed out.

"Man does not own their own destines, such matters are in Lorelie's will." The woman pointed out, taking yet another step towards the red haired child, her attention was now wisely split between the mild seeming protester of one and her target.

A flash of blue caught Cardinal's eye, daring to break his gaze from Legretta's face, impossible hope hammering his heart, he turned. One eye met his two, a nod from a familiar emaciated facade was all the confirmation needed. Wordless though the exchange was, he now had a point to run to. A point, and a prod, for Legretta's swift hands dipped to pull something from her belt... With a cruse he bolted, his new belt holding his pants up while he ran so that he could flee with a ghost of his dignity intact. The ground by his feet exploded, mere inches before he reached the dubious safety of the crowd, the earth spat sand and pebbles. Two small scars sliced a near path in front of him and he skidded to a stop within the space of a step. From a world away screams sounded, from a place much closer two clicks resounded as Legretta loaded and steadied the Daathian guns in her hands.

"The Commandant has summoned you to Daath, young Lord, and it's my job-"

Consolidating her split attentions Legretta completely ignored Darithin, and her third step took the big brigand out of her range of sight. Fortunate that, because Dari clenched a thick fist, gave his intents away with a smirk, and swung, all in one pass.

Legetta the quick didn't _quite_ fly, but it could be said that the woman made some formidable lateral distance before she hit the ground with a satisfying _thud_.

Cold hands closed over his wrist, Cardinal yalped in shock, literally jerked out of the trance of being a witness rather than a player of this scene.

"Come on!" York snapped, giving the boy a quick shake to reinforce his words. "Wake up, damn it!" Taking heart from the flare of _something_ that wasn't _quite _mindless fear making home in the boy's expression York pulled Cardinal along. The boy staggered, clearly in some form o shock. Having no time or inclination to be gentle York kept running, a hesitant cardinal barely holding on. "Don't let go!" The scrawny man snapped. "Or I swear by Lorelie's darkest hell I'll leave you to rot!"

Slender, small, digits, clenched as the boy all but grew claws and those "claws" sunk into York's hand in an attempt to "hold on".

XXX

Half expecting a mad dash through customs, sword drawn -because that's how all thieves made their exit- and weaving in obvious threat, a trail of cold bodies and colder laughter being the conclusion of their flight to Chesedonia's dessert, Cardinal was faintly disappointed when York dragged him this way and that. Each step seemed to be taking them away form the border and deeper into the shadowed heart of Chesedonia's streets. Flitting from crowd to crowd, the half mad set that had marked the beginning of their flight had long since been abandoned. Understanding the boy wasn't quite up to speed York snarled at Cardinal to make the boy stop running, and though those wide green eyes clearly wanted to run and never stop, the steel in the thin man's tone was enough to allow their pace to settle into a hurried walk. That walk stopped totally when York, getting queasy from all the boy's physical contact, informed Cardinal that he could "let go now".

Remembering what York was Cardinal gladly loosed his grip on the man, and the thief took a moment's reprieve to rub his aching hands together and grouse about the pain.

Around them, the world had changed. Buildings in the market square were straight, pristine -minus the dust, of course- and well made. Those around them were now shabby, leaning upon each other for support. The blocky symmetry that had been topped by the odd gold encrusted dome was long behind them, so far beyond that the distant golden rises seemed to be a scattering of suns frozen in color deprived sunset.

But what made Cardinal start was not the distant splendor or he defaced, decaying buildings, but the _things_. Crouched in shadows, reeking so that only death could be appeased from the aromas -and even _he_ might turn away form such a scent- the _things _shifted there lumpy frame as if contemplating the people that dare encroached on their decaying, dust choked, realm.

Holes for eyes, splinters for maws, scars for flesh, such were the clay and stone huts about them. A sullen shuffling could be heard from there depths, the huddled forms that he glimpsed along the shady corners could be seen, drifting ghost like, from those holes, those maws...

Green eyes went wide as the one they called Cardinal realized what he was seeing. Even as realization hit, reality went on, oblivious to his state of oblivion born epiphany. With a croak one of the cloth bound _things_ crept forward, each motion bringing forth the rancid blend of sickness and filthy flesh. From building's crumbling flank to street corner it staggered, it's limbs mercifully obscured by the rags it wound around it's frame as a parody of modesty. What little of the _thing's_ skin could be seen was mud dark and clearly festering. Seeing that one of the two was watching it, heartened by that scrutiny, it drew closer one limb... no hand... extended in mute entreaty.

Habit was the base of it. Compassion ingrained by habit is the most hollow form of giving, but he surpassed himself, breaking beyond mere thoughts of sympathy and horror. Spurred by mercy, driven by impulse, he reached for his belt, for a money pouch he did not hold. Seeing the motion York made an annoyed noise and seeing the source behind the motion the scrawny man's hiss became a growl. Out came the blade, with a hiss and snarl all it's own.

"Back!" Blade weaving before him the steel edge caught the noon light to wink malovantly. "Go beg somewhere else!"

Insanity, first to last, something in the one they called Cardinal snapped as he saw the pathetic threatening the helpless. He leapt between thief and beggar, his body a shield that stilled York's blade before it could hit home. With a curse the scrawny man sheathed his blade and snatched Cardinal's shoulder, all but dragging the weary boy with him as they wove through the shadows' of Chesedonia's glory.


	18. Internal dispute

A family of Idiots

Chapter 18

Internal fighing

_To my readers,_

_Flash update, written to "beleive" by Yellow card. Haven't had uch ime this week to get online, I hope to have better next... and my outline has longer chapters waiting to be transfered than this one._

_Enjoy,_

_Kasan Soulblade_

They argued as they had before leaving Daath, except this time it was louder, crueler, and the knives were out at the first words. Tucked into a far corner, chin on knees arms wound around his legs, the subject of the dispute was present but not participating.

"We leave him here!" Urushi snarled.

"Like hell we do!" York rasped.

Indifferent either way Noir crossed the length and breadth of the home Darithin had captured. This was innocent little walk number ive at las count… Dari shook his head, unable to believe the shear amount of crap his people were willing topu up beore they said "it bothers me" or "I care for someone". Yeah, they had there reasons, but when truth looked you in the face you spit in its eye... well truth, reality, whatever you want to call it, IT, took exeption to bad treatment, and sometimes retaieataed with a sword in the guts

Sticking true to his brigand roots the man had stormed the premises, terrified the residents, and at sword point evicted them. Mother had taken the child who was too small to even be walking, and by threatening one he had endangered both. The woman had left without protest, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head in terror while she ran…

He loved that, through it'd been years and years since he'd really run a raid on some pathetic town he had to admit, his victim's looks of terror never got old.

Sadism rimmed his soul while he watched the fight drag on, it stilled his hand where actions would have kept the boil to a minimum and kept an eye out on Noir so she wouldn't get clipped by the budding fight. Finally, fifth round around the hut complete the red clad woman returned and sat besides him between, taking the odd and uncomfortable place between Brigand and Loot. Her silence she held to, and it remained unbroken never mind the fight that had been going on for over fifteen minutes. It was to the quiet -a rarety for Noir- that he commented upon.

"No opinion?" Darithin asked, nodding his head to the two fighting wingmates.

"What's it to you?" Noir huffed.

Heaving a sigh Darithin raked his thick digits through his beard. Finding a snag he frowned, forced the fingers through and wincing at the pain.

"Are you _ever_ going to grow up, Noir?"

Her raised eyebrow, a pretty little motion that probably was meant to say lots but boiled down to "I'm too lazy to actually make a comment, guess why don't you?". Deciding to meet her laziness with some of his own Darithin ignored her, hauled himself to his feet and strolled up to his fellow fellons.

"Boys boys... you're both forgetin' the most important thing here."

"What's that?" Urushi grumbled, eyes crinkling into a suspicion ladden squint.

"What I say goes, no questions."

Skinny hands clenching into fists and York licked his lips, his blue eyes were wide with fear and his frame shaking under the stress of a cracking nerve. "And who made up that little rule?"

"I did, just now." Dari smirked.

They both turned on him then, predictable that, but fools they were they didn't even draw there knives. It was an ugly little scuffle that left a few bruses on him and left _thier_ bodies sprawled out like a freashly installed living floor . Reaching up, startled to find that sore spot that was his mouth left a trail of red on his hand Dari turned his head form them all and spat out a red tingued wad. Licking his lips, tasting iron and dust, Dari smiled, and Lorelie damn the pain.

"Wake 'em up Noir." Dari grunted.

"Why?"

Closing his eyes, tired all of a sudden, Darithin's smile withered and died. A genuine sigh slid past his stining, throbing, lips. "Noir, ya wanna get all bashed up like them?" Silence was her answer, Dark scuffed one foot against the dirt floor. "Floor could use a spot of red." He mused, letting the tip of his boot dig a furrow in the dust on the prospective "red" spot.

He'd play Noir subtle game just to spare his mouth the pain of talking. For once he'd let her decide what kind of red he would lay on the ground, Noir was a sharp girl, she'd put the dots together and make a passable line.

He had that much faith in her at least.

"Wake 'em up, all three of 'em."

Noir started at that, her dress rustled and she shook a bit. He cuaght the last from the corner of his eye and with the hints his ears laid deduced the cause of the motion laying motive before proof like any, good, Kimlascan lad. He waited for Noir response, almost holding his breath, and he could almost hear her put the pieces together. The gears of her brain churned as she considered the quiet that wasn't sullen, traced it to a meekness that was outre, and deduced the cause with a healthy dose of proof. A few shuffling steps and she stood over the boy, hissing the child's Wing given name. Cardinal's lack of response was the final piece, the final proof that the boy's quiet was born of a state of terror. Catatonic was probably the best word to decribe the child, overwhelmed, worn out, exhaused, and rung out by recent event was also would have served, but he never bothered to voice those words.

For his mouth still ached, and all he could taste was blood and grit.

Damn, Urushi was developing one mean left hook.

Finding his smile again, an inspired smirk raised by that final thought, Darithin, leader of the Dark Wings, left Noir to her own devices and stepped out for a breath of freash air.


	19. Chapter 19

A family of Idiots

Chapter 19

Happy family

The question, obvious to the point of infantilism, never came. Though he dreaded it and expected it as the fight drug on and eventually came to a bloody end the quiery never came. Humbled by memories he mutely followed the thieves lead when they left thier temporary hiding place. With a smirk Noir drapped an arm over the Wing's newest aquisitions shoulders.

"What's with the long face, sweetheart?"

No snarl met her familiarity, not even a ghost of that hostile shrouded stoicism could exist with all the fear shinning in those green eyes. Confident smirk still in place Noir drew the shivering boy close, allowed her hand trail up the side of his face until her digits were lost in the long luxerous hair. "Soft as silk" was an old cliche, after all how could one describe the electric softness that was the elite's ultimate luxury? Still, the boy's hair was smooth, warm, and long. She twined the thicker locks between her fingers, her smirk softening into a real smile without her knowing it.

"No god's dmned sparrow is going to take the Wing's by surprise." Noir murmurred, her eyes thoughtful, and her unintentional smile widening to genuine fullness.

Urushi, knowing that look shifted his hat to better hide his own frizzy hair. He had nothing to worry about, Noir had other prey litterally in hand.

"We just have to contemplate things form a different angle." The woman purred, her fingers lost in threads of red, her eyes distant... dreamy.

"Just try for a stright line." Dari grunted

"Shut up Dari." Noir snapped, it was a half hearted effort at least.

Eyes wide, for once utterly innocenct, trusting, and made to drop his faux maturity in the fae of true life death born terror Cardinal looked fom one Wing member to the other. The three ment looked down, around, but neve at him... An ominous show more disturbing than any overt show of pity, by far. Oblivious to it all Noir's smile widened to the point that it looked... painfull.

"Why don't you fetch the scizor's Urushi?" Dari sighed, knowing damned well how it was going to end he had to add. "And the gels."

"Red?" the squat man quiered.

"Miracle." The Wing's leader corrected grimly.

XXX

She hummed while she worked, pressed lips and stilled tonge muffled the complex turns of melodey. Still, undaunted, she hummed whiel she worked, made throaty melodies that went round about to nowhere take the place of her omnipresent talk.

Through her work she always hummed.

With the barest of sounds she guilded the teeth of the comb, form high to low. Starting form the point above his brows and pulling back. Each motion was gentle, measured, controeld, and soothing. WIth one finger she tuicked and curled the digi under the point of his chingm, and his head totled back at taht promt. Another touch, this one against theside of his face was a request he adheared, turning his head until the touch was gone. Fingers wetened by ink and water, the coulouses if not completely gone wre muffled.. Welcomecoolness was plastered against his face, bunched agsingt the hollows of his ees to drop off the tip ofhis nose and dribble agisnt the edges of hsi lips. Once, thirsty, he'd dared a quick lick, the bitter taste of dye had been all he'd garnered for the efort. A rag lay plastered agsint his face. His shirt was off and his palce skin was mercilessly reddening in the shade. Such was the testiment of the clime. Aginst the budding burns the drops seemed a lorelie given reprive.

Still a work, she hummed, her water softened digits idly flicking off the dros of dye taht slid down his necke, the other continued it's work with the comb. Idly his hands wisted, turned, and wode theoughthe thick mass of red Noi has sheared off before the dying. She'd sheared his hai to a mere ghos of it's old lenth so that the edges would have tickeld his ears had he dared move. Her cold touch coaxed him to stay down even as the song tappered off it's original coarse and became a new tune utterly divorced from the old in tempo, volume, and feel.

Peasent short was what his father woudl have called his new -if slightly askew- cu. Only the lower clases of batical favored short hai and he would have protested the length had he dared. WIth the siht of Legreta... or rather Legretta's Blazer pointed between hsi eyes still freash in his mind he was forced to rething a number of thisn that had once ben impossible. Humming, she always semeed to hum while at work, Noir dipped the comb into the black dye and with a baudy melody spilling past his lips she chucked one finger ont his ching. SLowly he rolled his head back, trying no to shive as the wet rag slung around the back of his neck let ou a steady trickle o luewarn water. Chill fingers tucked the rags agianst his eyes so that they exerted a wet pressence agisnt the whle of his lids, to that he grimaced.

For that grimace he was poked. Noir pushed on the span of rebelous compat face, muely ordering it to go up, releax, raise, ecetera. Cardinal's response was to snap his teeth. Minding the boy's pearly whites, Noir plucked the rag fom the back of the boty's neck and shoved the dye dripping thing into the boy's mouth. Green eyes went wide in shock the eyebrows rose ,and nevermind the means she had gotten what she wanted, Noir snatched opporunity while it was pipping hot. She swipped the comb and it's omnipresent, dilluted ink mix, through the boy's eyebrows.

XXX

Fussy, imaculate, though only using one eye York addored people watching. It was a game, you pick hte facts one by one, a nausccene here, a motion there, and then disect, analize. No better way to while away the long nights when the fires in his gut wouldn't let him sleep.

So people watch he did, and sometimes, when it was important he analized even as he wlaked.

With steady hands Cardinal smoothed his hair, never once looking back atthe sight of his previous trama. Interesting that, fastidious habbits upheld while he held company that couldn't careless. Cardinal always tried to look his best, always a dandy. Even in a desert, where dust was abundnt to the point of redundent the boy patted off the seat of his pants -again, oddity among the odd the boy took up the move only when no one was looking, a fascinating touch of modesty that- treating front like he did back even while each step kicked up more and soon staine the brown a clinging tan. Even as he walekd he was trying to smooth wrinkles out, centering a no sleeve tunis so threadbare that a good cleaning would have torn it apart... Still, the boy obviously kept apperience on the top of his list, even when they hikedthrough Auldrant's hottest hell.

Where the Wing's guzled thier water he sipped, grimacing at the metalic tinge that canteen packed water always aquired on it's trip to the lisp.

Differences, differences....

Getting past the guards on the border had been a synch, Noir's perchance for costume had shined, picking clothes to match the role the flamboyant Wings had simply become poor pilgrims returning from a trip from Daath. After the check point all of Cheesidonia's sandy expanse had laid before them

The sea of false gold it was called, for upon noon with the sun at it's zienth and directly above the yellow bornw dirt woudl glint and glimmer as would gold. Dust particles of fon stones, glass, and high salt quantity, a interesting light show garenteed to bake the brains andeyes out of any who lingered to watch... luckily for his brain and eye it wasn't quite noon yet. What it was though was hot, dry, an damned uncomfortable. With a sigh Noir unshipped her fans out of her pack and though the gaudy scarlet, feather accented things made a stark contract against her humble "pilgrim" disguise the woman refused to do without them. Packed them even through odds were high they'd be searched, and had trotted out a quick and smooth story about them being a family heirloom when they had been found. Acting part on vanity, and part on bad sense born of obsession Noir of Many Colors set her fans a-swish, one in each hand, trying to flap the hot air away.

Good luck with that... York grunted, turned from Noir to consider Cardinal. Boy wasn't watching a thing beyond the ground before each step. Nice thing about the heat being what it was it made running away damned suicidal they wouldn't have to rappig-tie and drag the boy behind them.

Another nice thing about Birdies' sudden surge of complience was also a matter of twin furrows. Since they weren't dragging him the boy wasn't leaving twin furrows and wearing out the heels of his boots on this stage of the trip. Granted that might just be the fact taht Birdie dind't want to wear out the heels of his shoes. Whatever the reasons, York took them in stride, one step at a time, till he left all reason and reasoning behind. The world blured as sweat fell into his eyes running color and light together until it all burned. From somewhere behind there was Urushi, always taking up the rear, the short man's profanity was almost has heated as the damned sun. Thinking about turning around and yelling at the deformed man to shut up Dari suddenly troting up to match pace at York's right. Long association with the brigand told York to shut his own trap, the look on Dari's eyes -you never looked at Dari's face, the omnipresent smile skewed everything so you never could trust that smile- was tight and angry... Knowing Dari's answer to anger was a fist, and considering furthermore York's face still hurt form the last "disceplinary measures" taken by thier leader York decided that he wanted to keep his nose whole today.

He waited for Dari to say his piece. It came quick and clean, and... oddly enough, thier talk not as laonic as York had anticipated. "What ya think of my birdie?" Dari rumbled.

"Rabid." York grunted, deciding that that was an apt enough term for now.

Beard bristling, omnipresent smile growing just a bit... taunt around the edges Dari snorted.

"If I wanted a rappig shit answer like that I'd ask Urushi and you know it!"

"How's _judgment pending_ sound?" York snapped. Catching the not so subtle hint of that thick fist curling he cringed back from the threat. "Come on Dari, cut an old Malkuth some slack! I don't work well under preassure!" The scrawny man whined, arms going up in a futile attept to look helpless, hoping that such a show would placite Dari's rage.

Fat chance that. Grin wide as ever the man swung and York measured his length on the dirt at blow's end.

Reveling at his chance to take a place that wasn't last, Urushi took up the unexpected oportunity to pick up the pace in hopes of passing York by.

XXX

Arms crossed against his chest, face twisted into it's most sullen repose Cardinal steamed. They coudl have set the pots by him and done without the wood and fire. At least so York had said, and he wa something of a half hacked fonist. Urushi, lazy as always, wanted to test the theroy, but Dari, the voiceo f reason, forebade it. Cardinal's temper was hot, yes, but violate and probably destructive. If given the opportunity the boy would kick over those pots, fouling dinner and starting a fight.

"Let 'im sulk." Dari grunted, then wisdom of the day done he'd wwent to the more important taks of watching Noir cook.

Clearly he was of the school that thought watched stew simmered quicker. Urushi, follower of the apposed edict "a watched pot never boils" settled for keeping an eye open for presuit. YOrk, an adament disbeleiver of all audages, sayings, and folklore, so he merely took the direct approuch with checking on supper. He asked Noir if the food was done.

It was a reasonable course, unless he asked every half minute, which the hungry thief always did.

"How about now?" York hedged, his unobsured eye hopeful.

"No!" Noir exploded. "Dinner isn't _done _yet!"

"Now?" York whined.

"Urushi." Eyes fixed on the flames, Daithin's voice was distracted as he was focusing all his will to make the food cook quicker. "Take Noir's knife away before she ads York to the pot." Not having a drop of fonist blood in his veins Darithin was fooling himself in thking that his efforts were having any headway, but it was his time to use, and his hope to waste, and it beat breaking up the fight that was budding.

"Hell no." Urushi shuddered, not liking the ferral look in Noir's eyes in the least. "Birdie, you tackle it."

"No." Arms crossed, face sullen, the now black haired "Birdie" dug his heels into the gritty ground, looking about as movable as one of the mountians in the distance.

Calling the Wing's residental bird a few colorful names Urushi fought to his feet, then once his quaking knees were steady he hobbled over to Noir, a soft "snick" of his staff's handle being turned told them all that he was going in fully armed.


	20. Stall

A family of Idiots

Chapter 20

Stall

"North is North Darithin."

Mocking smirk in place the Wing's leader stroked his beard, not saying a word. After a few moments Noir's instincts kicked in. Pouncing on the change to look better than her Wingmate she snatched the map from the adament Urushi and pointedly turned it right side up. Like York before her she championed the impossible notion that a misunderstanindg this mired could be worked around. Like her predecessor she explained that while up sometimes equated North other factors had to be considered. What way you faced, the rising and setting sun, the compass' readings...

Urushi's eyes were begining to glaze. Next to illiterage the Wing's map was little more than a pretty picture in his hands. The compass was an alian technology, and the sun a fickle thing that didn't always rise and set in the same spot.

"It rose in our faces today" Urushi pointed out, "and it'll set in to our backs tomrrow..."

Because we changed directions!" Noir srceeched.

"But if North is North..."

"Today we went West." York rasped. "Tomorrow we go north and hug the Sothern range, the next day we climb up to skirt acourn Chessedia."

Finding inspiration Noir nodded. "Like a U."

If a man's face crinkled in confusuion as the poets and yarn weavers say than Urushi's features could only be described as a huddle, and hat huddle's focal point was around the man's bulbious nose.

"But Noir, a "U" starts on top and goes down..."

Running her hands through her blnde locks Noir's fungers passed hrough the hair with more tugging than ususal. Only the pain kept her from screaming, that was it, so she tugged and writhed trying o keep the more violate of her frusterations in. York, matching her move for move almost in perfect sync no less, indulged in simular theatrics, save unlike his crimson clad companion he _did_ scream.

With a curse and rain of verbal abuse both Wings' gave up on Urushi and the map, swearing as they went. First watch came iwth a squat gaurdian, as the short Wing had been volenteered much to his own perplexity. Around the obfusciied watchman the remainder of the group had they'd set thier humble beddings. From his palce along a puile of theadbare sheets, Cardinal watched those around him with confusion. Still sullen from failure Noir was a vissage of poor humor to her right York absently complinaing of somach pains even as he fussily folded his blankets so they were less a pile and more an abstract geometric art piece. It was only in the quiet of first watch, with the ghost of noons heat seeping up form the salt and sands, that the one they dubbed Cardinal remembered.

Darithin had given Urushi the map. It had been in the larger man's hands for hours, constantly consulted and looked over. Only when Noir's voice had become shrill with the rise of her anger and York's grumbling had tappered off to a errie silence had Darithin donated the well worn parchment, enviting the man to "take a hand" in the group's navigation efforts.

He paced around that scenario, wondering why and how, dwelling upon reason and cause even as he drew his knees to his chin and curled aound the cast offs that had been dubbed his own by others. There was nothing new in the latter, and something desturbingly familiar in the former.

With that as his final thoughts, Cardinal slept.

XXX

Threadbare became taters, tatters rags, and the rags wound arond his hands slowly devolved into ribbons. Still, what little fabric he could keep around hsi hands saved the raw flesh from bleedingon the stone. At least at first. Like bugs the clunt to mountinous facades, stones scalding hot were streaked with silver in the moonlight and spoted red after thier passing. Hills of pebbles gave aching toes the cheery alternative of being stabbed iwth a hundred little edges verses the omnipresent pressure of having them jamed up against granite walls. The wind cu screaming paths over the jaggs in the stone, and teased the weary with oblision. A sudden gale could make a banner of Noir's presently blone hair and a grandous bib of Darithin's beard.

When the sun rose hey holed up in crevaces like a pack of lizards. The ood in your pocket, the water on your belt was all you goy. If you wanted more ou dropped your pack on the path besides you then wheeled it in slow and low, griping it between yourn kneew one hand fumbling with threads, knots and contents whiel the other held on twice as hard so you didn't fall down.

Such motions weren't taught, weren't even mentioned, rather they were learned. The teacher had been terror of seeing a bad choce carelessly made fail, and only the intervention of rough hands that pulled him back from the ledges edge had made the lesson terrorfying rather than lethal.

The first time he'd learned by such he'd been carless. Numbed by exhausion and sleep deprivation tht only a first night under a new schedule could bring, compile that with the exertion of his present travel and it could be easily said that for Cariadnal all the fon lights were on, but no one was home. In foresight his folly had been a minor motion. A shrug coupled with a relived sigh as the straps omnipresent pressutre lifted from hsi right shoulder, a grunt had passed his lips as he'd swung the pack, let it carelessly bang agaisnt the granite face in front of him The swing, borne more of gravity and a loose grip too high on the strap was the instigator. Given the bares slack and the smatlet bit of length the pack ahd smashed into sone and he force though minor had jarred up his whole arm. He'd started to that, not expecting the shock to jolt his whole arm and be so loud, and that was enough to losen his sole hand's grip on the stone.

bouncing away, the pack swung back, an the wieght pealed him off the wall. He coudnt' scream, the hammering of his pulse in his throad sealed his voice in the tunel of his throat. Eyes wide he cuold only sare at the hand that held nothing slipped further away form the stone... until that sight became to horrible and he had to close his eyes...

A wieght smashed into him. In his fear fevored mind talons pinned his wrists to the stone even as bony limbs braced his shaking frame aginst the granite.

"Drop it." Came the rasped comand, somehowe both above and behind him. His saviors' hot breath hit agauisnt his skull, mecifully saving his nose the barage. He could only obey, so he did so, and miricle of miricle the pack didn't tumble into the void at his back. Eyes still scrunched shut his unencumbled hands curled into claws of thier own. Digits sought entry and found it in flaws left by wind and rain crafted scars cast by time's hand. Only when he was steady did the hands loose their grip on his wrists, only when the shaking stilled did the wieght pull back.

"Smart boy, now get what you dropped. You're going to need the water if nothing else."

And with that as his parting advice, York left Cardinal to his own devices.

XXX

What took a day to cross afoot taking open avenues with the occasional side street to avoid the odd guard patrol took two abandon and two days past while they climbed high enough on the mountian's flank so not to be seen by the occasional cloud gazer, and another six days were spent to circle around, sticking wholly to the mountians jags and walls while the city slipped past them and they slid past it's scrutiny. Silence had taken the pale of banter and fights, dropping diffrence in the face of potential extinction they braved the elements without comment or complaint.

Well, except for Urushi, but if a flight obver relativly smooth terain had inspired the man to curse it went without saying that this treck that was misery for the whole and healthy was something form the private hells of a man who was not built for walking.

Descent came only when the mountians ran out, nailing spikes into the flanks of the mountian range Darithin had dictated they would descend on trails of rope. So they climbed, one bitter long night was spent in that descent and when at last the bottem was hit Darithin looked up and grimaced. Around him, to weary to take another steps, Noir, Urushi, and Cardinal had collapsd, not bothering with blankets and the like before hitting the sack.

"We might as well have painted an arrow sayin' where we were goin'." The brigand grunted, winded and worn, his tan face pale under the burns and scratches he'd aquired from this rugged leg of the treck.

"A man who sends Daath's finest after us isn't going to be pulled of the track by a rough trail." York rasped. The pain in his gut fed by fear and phobia confronted continuosly through the course of the night had left him weak and vomiting upon landfall. It was due to virtue of his sickness he was awake. When hsi statement only garnered him silence York shifted around a bit on the sand. The ocean, just a jump skip and hop away for the suicidally inclined rolled and rumbled beyond and behind him. Tilting his head back the emaciated man listened to the sound of sea on shore. Soothing and quiet that roar, he clsoed his eyes, and savored the contradiction. As DArithin's quiet dragged from the land of unusual to suspicious York broke the quiet with a sigh, and addressed the black behind his lids.

"You going back up to cut the rope?"

"Damned well should have just painted..."

Taking Darithin's monologue as a _no_ the reluctant thief smirked, and leaned back, letting gravity drag him down.

"It's aleady painted Dari." York hissed, pained even from that minor a fall but too weary to honestly care. His love of grammer failed him as exhaustion constricted hsi words and slured his speach around the edges. "It's painted red, so's the trail. We haven't shook 'em, just stalled for time."

To that Dari fell silet, mid rant, and suspicious became creepy, jsut a bit, aroudn the edges mind you. Finally, taking a deep breath Dari let out a massive sigh.

"It's all we ever do York, stall for time 'gainst what is."


	21. rest 1 of 4

A family of Idiots

A rest. One of four

//: rest 1/4

_A/N: a flash update, I've had little energy for writing and even less time than little to do so. this is all I've been able to update per my notes, I hope to put up more tomorrow._

By leaving North than East Darithin had directed his own, his wings outside the lands of Chesedonia. His chosen tourh, through mountian and hight,m had seemed to elude the Daathian efforts to find him and his own. But when one's foes have alies in every toen, every habitation becomes a double edged blade. On one hand supplies lay within each place, a change for profit and hope towards rest. But so can death, for the priesthood could rouse the masses by threat of excomunication if thier demands were not met..

And the death of a pack of brigands wouldn't stretch the conciounces of many by much.

Compiling bad upon worse thier ;'daring;' escape had cost them supplies and energy that they shoudl be hording. So with less to his name than he'd started this misadventure and another mouth to feed Darithin had come to a chocie.

And like all decisions, to spite the predetermined, he wold let the dice decide.

The dice hadn't been in his favor much these days. But the pieces had been set in the cup, and the run had gotten the pieces tobouncing. Luck in or not it was his cast now. So as he rolled the pieces in his hand, considered the factors, the odds, thier strengths and weakness, and patted one and all for a bit of luck.

There would be monsters. NightRaids, those lupine beasts that nested in the shadows of boulders and slunk throug the low gloom cast by long grass. They would infest the forests too, thickening shade into ominous gloom, dripping a miasma of dispair from their hides. Amongst the distant branches, nestled amongst green upon green flocked heralds to dispair. Those emerald heralds would scream songs of pain, and thier choirs could drive the sane mad. Such were the tactics of Howlers, those leaf green devils driven more than one off track caravan's crew insane with thier caterwalling. He'd seen the bodies amongst ruined campsites, strewn about like child's toys amongst the disorder of man made order.

To that recollection he made a concession to habbit -to his captor in a way- and decided off of cold logic that avoiding the forests would most definately be wise.

Ah, but the roads. Northern bound and beconing, the held thier own perils. Violet DeathSeekers prowled the open places at twilight. Heads crowned with back curving horls that woudl slash even as the sinous neck thrust forward to deliver a bit... The long, serpendinte beasts would not hesitate to attack anything. Born rabid and raised mad they would kill _just_ to kill. Their own deaths meant nothing as it was commonly known that a lone 'Seeker would tak on an army until it was torn to shreds and the corpse burnt. Granted they could only prowl that hourish span between day and night, and while that was some consolation the fact that they tended to travel in packs of a dozen strong banished that one weakness. Eager to kill, each other as anything else, _they_, more than bandits and trials of the roads, and laws of the Malktuh, insured that the peoples visiting Daath afoot would do so in large bands.

And upon that cheery note he shivered. To battle the mad, no sane man dared. Whether the mad thing you fought was two legged or four, you _didn't_ take on the insane. Victory against one of those was too much like defeat. It could cost you a soul, some fingers and toes, and other much more important parts pivitol to reproduction...

WIth a sigh he considered the ground around them. Flat for now, the path seemed smooth. He tossed a length of wood on the fire, one of their last, and considered while he watched it burn. He coudl almost feel the hands of fate thrusting the rolling cup in his hands. It was his toss, after all... There were other things, amongst the wilds and the roads. THings without names, monsgters amongst monsters, colasal beasts that had hides as jagged as a storm front and thunder for thier steps.

All of the above was North, all of it waiting.

Smooth would become hilled before turning into the monotious track of stone and steel taht cust across the back of the sea. Partols tropped accross that span, the militia of Malkuth paced back and forth escorting those of proper write and forbading those with none.

Many were those poor souls who'd forgotten some slip of paper and been turned away only to be killed by the various beisties he'd mulled over just now. And the Malkuth's had the gall to claim thier national color was _blue. _

With a sick crack and applause of sparks that were spat, the fire split the wood down the center. Little starlets of red and yellow twined and died amongst the coils of smoke and gloom. He stared at the dark aboce the light, idly trying to unwind smoke from shadows and failing utterly.

_Get to the bridge and worry about crossing it when you get there._

Thus spoke the voice of unwisdom, of hope, of chance, of desperation. Such things were sacrelige, the mullings of a heathen, and he listened to the optimism of his thoughts rather than the words so he wouldn't lose courage.

It was all of spite, of course. All his actions had the sole goal to spite Lorelei.

And for the spiting, because a large part of him _was_ spite, he smiled and leaned back agaisnt the unyielding stone, enjoying his bitter repast.

"DeathSeekers, Howlers, and Nightraids, oh my." Dari of the Dark Wings sneered to the gold tinged flames and it's gathering of ash.

The gold light would fail, smoothering on what had once been it's suscience. Still, above and beyond the relm of sight smoke chased shadow, and shadow twined with smoke. To weave a noose, a tapestry? Perhaps they were one and both. Perhaps he was just thinking too much...

Deciding that that last thought was the wisest one of his watch Dari yawned. He was getting almost... sentimental while mulling over thier odds amongst the gold, gloom, and his slumbering companions, agsint such stark backgrounds. To counter that he closed his eyes, and decided to be undecided for the night. Tomorrow would bring what it may.

And like all the games he played against his unseen, all seeing, advisery Dari smirked as he tossed the cup and it's die in Lorelei's face. Let the piffs land where they would, he was getting some shut eye.


	22. Friction

A family of Idiots

Chapter 21

friction

She sang as she walked, not a care in her head, of an iota of stelth in her manner. Save for her steps, each was quiet, how she placed each foot planed for quiet.

But her mouth betrayed her, and them all. With her chosen cadence she declared -in loud vulgar graphic turns- a true tale to the uncaring winds. An affair between noble man, wife, and servant. It was a piece from a musical that was presently outlawed in Kimlascam as it dealt with the disgrace of a house that was best left unnamed. In fact, they had no name. Their coat of arms and titles stricken had been from by the Council of Lords many years ago under the reason of "dishonoring the names of the House of Lords by mere association". Still, public known disgrace aside, the tune made in the house's passing was a taboo tune. Noir wallowed in what was forsaken, paying no mind to what was sacred and what was not. So as she walked she raised her voice to fill the cloudless vault of heaven with her off tune singing.

And each line was a step closer to some grand revelation. Something darker, some unspoken crime that had been stained with a gloss of dishonor and used as clause to sever family, branch and root, not only from Nobility but from nation.

Besides him, matching his flush with one of his own, blue clad thief and captive were of one mind, and that was to get away from Noir's singing. Laughter mixed with music, Noir was far from oblivious after all, and she was well aware of the effect her tune was having on the more "delicate" of the party. Having already talked of war crimes, murder, and sabatoge Noir warmed to the latest act, startign with an innocent seeming strings of stilted, allusion ridden stanzas that would later degrade into bawdy song better found in a tavern than amongst the wilds.

"_And I serve of love, for love's sake, and it's many trials do I preserve._

_Freely giving my love, my love, and all loves my love._

_In equal measure, and equal passion, for is that not man's calling?_

_And all are treated equally of mine gift. _

_For from the same blade I draw from various cups..."_

A cold chill threaded his spine, some flash of foresight told the one they called Cardinal he did not want to hear the verses that were going to follow. Maybe it was the half purr to Noir's more recent laughs, maybe it was the fact that York had glanced at him and turned a few shades redder than red, but something warned Cardinal he didn't want to be around for the post prologue segment. Hitching his belt up so that it was more securely in place Cardinal took to his heels. With a startled yalp York followed suit, making sure the captive didn't get away. Hollering curses that seemed prestine compared to the previous lines of Noir's ditty the blue clad man followed.

From the back, behind Noir a ways, Dari and Urushi matched paces. Reaching up with a hand to stroke his beard Urushi chuckled at thier leader's latest ploy.

"Think she'll ever catch on?" Urushi wondered, using the once stroking hand to point at Noir who'd clsoed her song off in an unmusical squak and ran after her audiance, screeching inanities like "come back!" and "I'm not done yet, damn it!"

"Nah." Dari smirked.

"Yous could of said, 'Guys, there could be knights and junk, we need ta go faster' and that would of made 'em go faster." Urushi felt it was only common sense that route, so he pointed it out for Darithin's benifit.

"York would have worried," Darithin explained, his smirk as wide and vicious as ever as he ticked off the reasons why he had encouraged Noir to "speed up the miles with a few songs" after lunch. "Noir would of whined, and Cardinal would have had a heart attack when he realized that Oracle knights had a base in dusty ol' Chesedonia. This keeps 'em going fast without the headache."

"But now _I _gots a headache!" Urushi whined, his staff thumping into the road with each step hard, each step made an expression of his indignation that way. He walked faster when angry, soemthing Dari had learned a long time ago.

"My heart bleeds." Dari smirked, adding more fuel to Urushi's fire.

And for that fuel the crippled man swore then walked all the faster.

XXX

The grond was flat, the face of the earth before them swelled along the horizon, a horizen that they'd likely meet and exceed by noon tomorrow. swells would become hills, that -if one took them too far- would lead to the feet of mountians and lick at the edge of forests. Luckily for them, they weren't cutting through hsoe forests, not if they could help it. They'd stick to that road like glue, and see what oportunites rolled thier way.

And nice thing about being leader of the Wings rather than being some goverment sombody was that there wasn't anyone to argue with him about it when he declaired his plan. At least that's how it always had been. so Dari declaired, Dari decreed, and for once in his adult life somone had the guts to disagree.

"What do you mean "oportunities"?" Cardinal asked, his green eyes glinting as he met Dari's dark eyes.

"We ain't circus people, you knows. Preformancing's just a side." Urushi explained, snatching from Dari's unexpected silence the oppotunity to shine and show this wordly, unworldly, brat a thing or two.

"Highway robbery." It wasn't a question, merely a growled fact... Check that, check and correct, it was almost an accusation.

To that Urushi snorted, he'd sprawled his warped legs before him, and wasnt' going to waste the time to get up unless it was damned important. No amount of lip from thier captive was going to move him once he was comfortable. That's what Noir and York were for. Scratching under one armpit Urushi grunted, his bright eyes watching the flames and more importantly the meat York was turning over those flames. York, already hot and sweaty from working around the fire had nothing to say. He only took advantage of the quiet to take a break from turning to spit and poke the nearest roasting rabbits with the tip of his rapier. After sniffing at the tip the scrawny man declaired, "'bout five more minitues, 'fore dinner's one" and sheathed his blade. At the camp's edge Noir sipped from her flask of water, eyes half closed not a thought in her brain.

Cardinal's accusation sounded upon indiffernet ears. Well three out of the four were indifferent, the last listener was taking a keen interest in the boy's tone and poise and not liking the hints read within said gestures.

"You got a problem with how we make our means, Cardinal?" Darithin growled.

"Several." The boy sniffed, his face scrunched up as if he scented something foul.

"Really?" Dari stood then, his thick hands clenching into thicker fists.

"Are you deaf as well as stupid?" Cardinal snapped, also rising. "If you rob someone, on Malkuth's doorstep, you'll have every Imperial soldier along with every Daathain soldier on the roads looking for us! Further more theft is immoral, it's wrong!"

To Cardinal's tone more to his words Noir woke up from her waking sleep, York forgot to turn the spit, and Urushi half braced his arms on the ground to get up if needed.

"No one challenges me." Dari hissed, his breath made the tip of his beard shake, and with the red tingued dark folding over his frame it looked almost like the tip of some beasties tongue, licking the air about it's fangs. "I'm leader here. Not you, Birdie, and you best learn your place."

"Other men beter then you tried to "teach me" my place, scum. I'm not scared of an oversized pickpocket."

"You should be." Darithin snapped, hands closing over the short sword he kept strapped to his belt. It came free with a dry hiss, like a scrape of claw on stone. "you should be."


	23. Smarts

A Family of Idiots

Smarts

_a/n: A flash update_

Nursing a headache, a split lip, and a swollen eye, he awake to a reality hazed with pain. The dull pain of recalled half healed hurts had a different texture to these present pains, but in turn was present… so he nursed memory, pride, and the varied pains with a sullen sulkiness that was a throw back of his first days amongst the bandits. He took the soup Noir offered without a word, cradling the dented bowl in throbbing hands. Cardinal fumbled with the wooden spoon offered to him with swollen feeling fingers, eating with a pale ghost of old grace and making a royal mess of his tunic.

As he ate, bits and pieces came back. But not the whole, never the whole, but considering the pieces that was not wholly a bad thing. He recalled standing against Dari's approach, the brigand's black eyes flashing like Hell's own pits. Then -disjointed with a wide blank before and after- there came a burst of stars and a sense of falling, after that, beyond impact, he recalled the a gritty taste in his mouth and the iron tang of blood. Spitting, swearing, he was standing again, staggering though he stood. His voice a high pitched discordance that sliced through the deathly quiet of the camp, its tenure rang through his head the morning after even if the words did not. Impotent, though driven, his helpless rage had made him close on the smug thief, and the idle thought that though first blood wasn't' his second would be just as sweet…

And after that thought there was a black blank in his recollection, a missing spot, and a dull ache in his skull that affirmed what he guessed, a thick fist had encouraged that forgetfulness.

Noir's green eyes were wide in -What? Awe, fear, he didn't know and presently could have cared less- as she watched him eat. Quietly Noir studied him, as if he was some new, fascinating beast. Uncomfortable under the woman's scrutiny did the only thing he could think of, ignore her and eat. So he ate, the spoon slipped from his right hand a few times and he had to fish I out… But for the most part he kept the utensil in hand. Feeling awkward under an adult's scrutiny he ate quickly, despite the pangs in his gut.

He remembered the source of that pain, even as he ate. He'd been kicked while he was down. He grimaced to that memory, it was seeped in dishonor and it wasn't the pain of those hits that made him feel sick.

Misunderstanding, Noir grinned at him, the genuine warmth of her smile making Noir's normally sullen face seem... pretty.

"York only thinks he can cook." The presently blonde woman chuckled.

To that he grunted, the pain in his skull peaked to his efforts o talking and eating, it peaked o the point he hardly felt civil, much less talky. Luckily, or unluckily, Noir needed little encourage to continue a chat. She was more than happy to hold both ends and the middle up, conversationally speaking.

Don't choke yourself wolfing down breakfast, sweetheart." Noir advised smugly. "York's still snoozing off his latest bout of "indigestion", Urushi's limping around getting firewood to last us the trip and Dari's looking over the map."

To his baffled look Noir laughed, a bray more suited to an ass, but the hand she set on his head –minding the swollen lump where Dai's short sword had smashed down- was soft, smooth… Ruffling his short cropped locks Noir's green eyes grew distant, almost dreamy. _Knowing_ that look he ducked his head, and jerked away from hose fingers.

"No."

"But black doesn't' really-"

"No!"

"Curls?" Noir wheedled desperately,.

"It's one syllable, it's a negative, what makes it so hard to understand?"

To that Noir pouted, raked a hand through her sun hued locks as if to aide her thinking. When that garnered no results she gnawed on her lip, considering the issue this way and hat. Turning over intuition with perspective, and wanted intent she tossed he issue upside down, turned I inside out, and potentially perverted the whole skein of thinking of come up with a counter. Still, she found her newest path of attack, and took it up with relish.

"Two wrongs make a right."

"No they don't."

"It's math." Noir sniffed, proudly looking down at Cardinal from the pedestal made of mangled education and exulted ego. "Any idi-"

"That's _negatives_." Cardinal snapped, the tine brought images of teeth clicking together and Noir wisely withdrew her hand. "Two negatives make a positive, that's the theory."

"Difference being?" Noir asked coolly, one eyebrow arching to convey skepticism.

He explained, enunciating each thought slowly, carefully, and with obvious irritation. Still, to Cardinal's credit he didn't loose his temper once. Green eyes glazed, Noir was back to gnawing on her lip midway through his speech. Finally, at explanations end she whirled to her feet, her skirts all a fly.

"York, York, wake up!"

"Go 'way..."

Marching up to the whining tangle of blankets and limbs Noir prodded the midsection of the pile with a booted foot.

"Come _on_ York."

"Mmph…"

Prod became a swift kick, with a croak thief and bedding flopped on its side becoming –if possible- even more intertwined. Cloth shrouded limbs folded over the midsection o the bundle.

"Damn it Noir, what the Hell's your problem?" Though wheezed there was a thread of indignation to the scrawny man's croak.

"I need a rebuttal."

The emaciated man looked up at Noir, his skeletal features utterly blank without inflection or intention. He matched tone to façade.

"Whatever for?"

"That." Noir snapped, pointing an accusing digit to the Wing's loot.

"Alright…"

With a bit of squirming to keep what shouldn't be seen by other's eyes obscured York kept the blankets in place as he sat up. Both blue eyes wide and visible for once–no matter how eccentric you were, no one in their right mind slept with an eye patch on- York considered the sullen boy. The red haired child was huddled around his soup, eating pace slowed a bit by the obvious pain from blatant wounds. Noir hovered besides him, waiting for the scrawny man's wit to rush forward and –metaphorically speaking of course- flay the flesh off of the boy's bones. There was nothing York didn't like more than a good verbal fight; it was one of the few things that red clad woman and blue clad man had in common.

"Boy."

To that salutation the one they called Cardinal lifted his head and blue eyes met green.

"What'd the_ hell_ you say to Noir? I've never seen her kicked off her high horse, ever."

All eagerness, leaning forward as much as he dared too and still keep sights best left unseen, unseen, York's smile was wide, appreciative even. To York's betrayal Noir stormed off, swearing at the uncaring sky and trees. Her vile wordage assaulting the ears of innocent, oblivious animals and bandits alike and to that background noise York's smile grew wider.

As did Cardinal's, though he didn't know he smiled quite at first.

"I just explained the difference between a negative and a wrong." The boy bragged. He would have raked a hand through his long red locks, save they weren't long anymore, nor were they red. To that reminder his smile faded, and I was only in its passing that he realized that he had been smiling.

"Smart boy." York congratulated him in his worn voice. "Just don't let your smarts get to your head."

To that the pain in Cardinal's head peaked, and he winced, despite all intents not too.


	24. Obvious

A Family of Idiots

The Obvious

There was a rythmn to the banter, and while grating it was almost flawless for it's symatry. All activities were given thier place, a span for poise, a trail to travel, and of course a topic for bickering. They flowed from activity to activity as a bird would flit from branch to branch, all the while eatting up the miles. Thier pace, while not robust, was steady, and that fact alone was due to Urushi's stubborn determination more than anything else. Though technically crippled the man held pace, swearing and sweeting with every step, but he held his place only a few feet behind the others. Content that he wasn't going to bolt, they allowed him to drift amongst them, thier silent Cardinal, so Darathin had jeered. "Sing birdie, sing!" that little witchism had started another fight, and a cruel blow to the leg at fights conclusion had left Cardinal humbled and shamed as he hadn't been able to do anythimg but strain himsef to just keep pacewith Urushi. For a day he had been trapped with the sullen thief, on the next the paind receeded enough so that he could hold pace with the leaders of thier little flight with only some pain on his end. He hadn't thoguh, not wanting to risk falling under Dari's eye and Dari's fist. Still, the pace rankled, it rubed tender places raw until what little of his patience snapped. He'd spoken the obvious, and it wasn't Dari who'd struck him for it.

"Shut your damned fool mouth and keep walking." Noir snapped, green eyes glinting with rage.

Wounded, the boy they called Cardinal rubbed his head, glaring up at the woman with eyes just as green. "All I said..." He started, determined to defend himself. "Was why don't we leave him behind, he's slowing-"

The first slap had been a light tap compared to the second. He staggered under the hit, actually fell. He caught himself with a grunt, and on hands and knees he stared up at Noir, not quite beliving the sheer passion in the womna's voice. She stared down, disgust making her face wrinkled and red. Hands on hips, all but shaking in rage she ordered him to get up.

He did so, almost afraid of what would happen if he didn't.

"You don't leave Wing Mates behind, ever." Noir hissed.

"It's not like you care!" Cardinal snarled to the woman's back. "None of you care about each other, not one of you!"

Still Noir walked, untouched by the truth. Urushi passed him by without once looking back. And Dari, in the lead as always, was oblivious of this spat of conflict between his Mates as he was of most the others. Only York remained, waiting patiently for the boy to pick himself up, wipe the tale tell tears from his eyes. As the boy dusted himself off, using the words he'd learned from Darithin and Urushi's courser exertions into language York cleared his throat. To that unexpected sound Cardinal hopped, eyes wide, expecting another blow perhaps.

And York did strike, while the fear was sharp and the pain lingered at it's peak, he struck not with his fist, but with words.

"Someone must of ditched you hard and fast for you to be so eager to throw off someone who's being a mite inconvinent." The blue clad bandit drawled.

Turning on his heel, York of the Dark Wings ignored the muffled sob behind him and kept on walking. Interesting, really, how much Cardinal sounded like any other boy when he was crying. Creepy as it was, most of the time the kid sounded absolutely adult. Pulling his blue vest a little tighter York kept walking, _'not a worry in the world'_ he told himself, but his hands were shaking and his guts were twisted into familiar knots.

XXX

The shadows grew, making the odd clsuter of rocks that paralleled the road into terrible fangs with slavering gloom grey tongues. Despite himself, despite his bravo, Cardinal siddled up to the adults, not wanting to be the slowest in the group when surrounded by such macabre monuments. A day had come and gone since the latest spat, and the frictions, the wall he'd cast between himself and the group of thieves seemed to be quickly forgotten. Lost in next days dawning.

Well, save for the fact Urushi didn't say a word to him, but that was almost normal, the squat man could go days without speaking to anyone.

So it had been an almost normal day, with Noir singing during random snipits of their walk with all the musical skill of a drunken chirpee and Dari leading them to "northern nowhere" or so York had sneared at his leader during breakfast. York had been force feed the oatmeal by said leader, and that had been the last of the complaints taken about thier rout. Dari had held up the rear, swearing up a storm, and Noir had noted -during one of her rare "voice breaks" those spans between songs where she dragooned the nearest Wingmate into conversation- around lunch that there were tracks up ahead.

"Caravan?" Dari had asked, black eyes bright.

"Pilgrimage." The woman sniffed in distaste. Bending down she picked up a pinch of glimmering white. Pinching the grainy substance between two fingers she held up her finding to better illistrate her point. Bits of grainy white -salt perhaps- paralelled the parallel tracks. "Only sparrows are so stupid as to salt the road behind them."

"Wonderfull." York chuckeld, eyes alight with a sadististic glee that made Dari's pale in comparision. "Never did like sparrows, why don't we pick up pace a bit and stick 'em?"

And through Urushi grumbled that that was his line, they carried on. Their pace increased, and while the tracks became fresher they never cuaght up. At least not before twilight. By the time the sun began it's descent Urushi was whimpering and whining about the rigors of travel, as the orbs roundness was being obscured by the teeth of the mountians Dari called for a halt.

Actually, what he had said was "Shut the hell up Urushi, were stoping already!" and that had been that. They'd set up camp alongside the road, blankets, bedding and the like scattered around them, fire built up high. It all seemed normal, common place, unless one notices that the sun was still up, and they were stoping a great deal earlier than normal. York padded amongst his wingmates, doing nothing in particular and avoiding Dari so he wouldn't get asigned to something particular nasty, and on his wanderings he spoted Carindal. Or rather, he spoted the boy's hesitance around the pile of rocks in front of them, and he smirked. Before approuching the boy he dropped his smirk, took a facade of studious calm that any professor of Malkuths rigerous acadamies would have envied and slipped up behind the boy. No "boo" required, just a touch of the hand and the child all but hopped out of his boots.

"You should be scared." York murmured, then casting his gaze back to where Noir and Dari were arguing. Thier familiar frames etched in reds and yellows of the firelight, and Urushi, oblivious to everything but his aches and pains, was a sullen lump at the fire's feet. Turning back to the boy, having drawn his gaze from the psudo fangs and tongues the Malkuthite leaned in close for the proverbial kill. "They burry thier dead on these monuments you know, the dead villans and dishonored, and those restless ghosts come out to rip the souls out of the passerby on full moons."

As the boy craned his head to look at the other horizon and see to his obviously mounting terror as he spoted the swell of white rising out of the horizon's far edge. Auldrent's sole moon, Luna, was on the rise, and looked to be full. York pressed his thin lips into a line so he wouldn't laugh, his shoulder's shaking with surpressed mirth. one snicker escaped his lips, than another, looking up, seeing the spasoming face Cardinal was sharp enough to put two and two together in a flash. Beguiled once, he wasn't going to fall for another trick like this agian.

At least that's what those green grim eyes promised.

"What's the matter Cardinal, can't take a joke?" York snickured.

To that Cardinal replied, with his boot. He slamed it down on York's toes and the scrawny man howled and danced in pain.

"What's the matter York, can't take a joke?" Cardinal snapped.

Before York could utter anything -or go for his rapier, a tempting thought that!- the shadows before them snarled. Eyes wide, both of them turned, forgetting their fight in terror. Devil eyes looked back, black and empty framed with hollow lupine faces. From the gloom and the shadows they flowed, grey and black gloom seeping from their fur that pooled the gloom into a dark so mired it mirrored midnight skies.

As one both Cardinal and thief bolted back to the camp, the howling "ghosts" behind them.


	25. Are we there yet, part 1

A Family of Idiots

Chapter 16

We aren't even at the bridge...

Bolting back to the fire, eyes wide and filled with terror, the wing's didn't waste time with inanities like "what's wrong?" like otehrs would have. They took the terror, took the path of his flight and knew that trouble was on it's way and which way it came from. Fast on the messenger's heels York tumbled into the circle of fire light, twilight's lengthening gloom casting his acsetic face in shadow. With a steely hiss York drew his rapier as he approuched, clearing some minor obstical that Cardinal had opted to scramble over with a running leap. Only when he turned on his heel, slender blade skewering the darkness before him, his back to them all, that Darithin let go of the breath he had been holding. With a grunt Dari pulled his short sword from his belt, having the advantage of hieght the large bandit saw the approuching beasts first and swore vicously before barelling out of the gold tingued campsite.

"Raids!" York barked, slender sword speaking at a blotchy shadow that recoiled at the coming of steel. And looking back, with the memory of those hollowed out wolves at his back, Cardinal couldn't see what he recalled. Born from unseeing that which should have been seen the boy was treated with the sight glimmer of what insanity was like. York stabbed at shadows that obliginbly folded to the point of the blade. The dark was silent, even when the blade conected, and fell back when the scrawy man's sword slashed about widly. Yet that's all it was, a silent flicuring, malicious _feeling_ dark, that was all Cardinal saw despite what he'd _seen_.

Unable to beleive what he was seeing -or rather wasnt'- Cardinal shook his head wildly, willing his eyes to work right.

If not for the grim determination on the emaciated man's face the boy would have thought Yiork to be fighting shadows, as if in preperation for some skit. Not held paralized by the contradiction of hearing no threat but seeing one of his 'mates fighting for his life, Darithin acted. Plowing past the frozen Noir, stepping over prone Urushi, Dari charged the dark, short sword leading.

"What the hell's gotten into you two?" Noir snapped rubbing the sore spot where Darithin had _gently_ pushed to get her out of his way. "There's nothing there you idiots!"

"Kimlascans," Urushi snapped. "you're such damned fools." With a weak growl man scrambled from laying to hand and knee, with a grunt that was half whimper he tried o push hiumslef up, to stand, but one leg slid out from under huim in the dust of the road. He went down with a yowl of pain.

Beyond them, standing back to the light and side to side, Dari and York made a living wall against the flickuring dark. The two men couldnt' have been greater contrasts if they had tried. In motion, size, and intent they clashed, first to last. Controllong every stinging sword and lethal thrust, Yotrk danced in place. Braving an occasional step back and forth from time to time to keep his foes guessing. Saving the meager reserves of his strength by making the dark come to him, the scrawny man's expression was locked in a rictus of fear. The eye not covered by the eyepatch was squinted tight, as if to spare himself of the signt of the violence he inflicted on unseen. His contract's black eyes were wide and gleaming. No morbid stiffening of the featuires took expression from _his_ face, and that expression was a wide, welcoming, grin. Dari lunged the dark, and when it dared to skitter away he reached for it, drew it close, and slamed it against the sword held tight in his off hand. Lauighing like a mad thing, coutering Yorks silence with roars of mirth, Dari's sword was soon encrused with something thick and grey... that dripped.

Final, Noir saw. The gore comeing from nothing, was if nothing else, a strong arguement that something was out there. Her response, was unexpected by one and anticipated by the others, for seeing she became paralized by fear of the unknown.

Holding no such phobias, Urushi swore and struggled to stand again. Knowing one was hopeless he turned to the unknown and hoped against hope.

"You, boy!"

Cardinal jerked to life, eyes wide, barely seeing, but sane.

That was a step up from Noir's mental state, and it would have to do.

"Get my walking stick, and hurry the hell up!"

To the tone more han to the words Cardinal moved to obey. Spying it less than three feet away Cardinal bolted to his goal. Not breaking form his run he knelt, snatched at the wooden staff, and turned on his heel towards the downed thief... Just in time to see a bulky shadow skim around the edge of the fight. Knowing from the angle of Cardinal's wide green eyes that he ahd company Urushi rolled over and was nose to smoking snout with a beast that seemed to be born straight of hell. Blanching, Urushi lost all his bluster and composure, leting out a _very_ feminine scream of pure terror.

To that _it_ snarled. The monster was a lupine shaped thing, more pelt and bones than beast, and to that scream it let out a snarl, seeing challenge in teror's place. Silenlty it padded forward, it's frame letting loose little whisps of grey-black smoke from every joint and angle as it approuched. Ever mute, even as it burned from within. Cringing back from the beast, eyes wide, Urushi felt terror in his gut rather than see his life flash before his eyes.

It was a shoddy compramise, terror instead of a final flash of glory before the end to be sure, but it was all he'd have...

"Urushi!"

With a soft "thunk" steel sunk into earth. Reaching over his shoulder for place where he'd heard the sound and sensed the motion the thief was rewarded with the sensation ohis hand closing over wood. If felt feverishly hot, that wood, but it was a blessing, and he took it in hand and acted. Moving as quick as he could he wrenched the staff out of the dirt and swung at the beast in front of him, steel tip of his can leading. Black pits regard him belaying no expression. A face wihout the benifit of eyes leered down at him, the upper lip was pulled back reviling gloom grey fangs bared and thirsting. Guilded by desperation born cruelity the deformed man went for the eyes that were not. The beasts face whiped to the side, jaw gaping in a soundless gasp of pain as the steel slashed across it's face, the beast stagered under the force of the unexpected hit. Even as one fore paw braced agaisnt the earth, bringing the other three paws in line Urushi swung, this time starting lower and sweeping up.

The steel tip bypassed the bones over pelt hide, sinking into in the fleashiest span. Steel passed through fur, seeking blood, and came up with grey. Jugular slashed -as well as the whole of its scrawny throat- the beast stared at him without seeing, staggering one step forward before colapsing in the downed man's lap.

Shoving the twiching carrion _off _Urushi scrambled to his feet, his saviours screem of terror spurring him to his quickest, which was not quick at all but would have to serve.

"Noir!" Bent double over his staff, shaking legs not yet steady, Urushi barked at his wingmate, praying she'd snap out of her shock at the sound of a familiar voice. "Do something already!"

XXX

Knives in her packs, Noir was helpless in the face of that comand. Doing something meant having something do that _something_ with, but unarmed she was helpless against these smoking terrors that padded out of silence, passing from shadow into light to become living nightmares. With a scream Cardinal went down, knocked over by the beast that had lunged out of the gloom. Still, downed he fought, kicking against a hide that could't feel the hits, fisted hands clenching the scuf of a jowl tracing mane and using that as leverage to keep the teeth back.

Such efforts did nothing against the claws that dug down, ripping through cloth and trying to reach the boy under that cloath to tear it apar like it would rip through a span of soft earth. Screaming even as he fought, screaming as he lost, Cardinal's cries while beserked brought a familiar hated stinging to Noir's eyes.

To hell with the knives.

Snatcing the packs that had the knives along with every other bit of heavy cookery iem in it, Noir gripped the worn straps at thier peak and swung, giving as much slack as she dared withough losing the pack. Taking the hit to it's gut the beast let out a "whoof" as all four of it's paws were lifted a fraction of an inch up and it's whole frame went twisting to the side. Even as it's paws scrabed against the earth and it found i's footing ti was rewarded for it's efort with another hammering blow from the Wing's accumilation of heavy loot and cookware wrapped in canvas. To the second hit it scrambled back, grudgingly giving ground, eyeless face wincing in hurt.

"Go away!"

She swung again, the beast lept back, braced itself against the earth, than lept forward mouth forced wide, teeth gleaming dully in the fire's light.

With a scream of her own Noir held the improvized weapon before her as a shield, teeth smashed down on steel and cloth. Pinned down, with a monster's weight crushing her into the ground, Noir fought to keep the pack between its jaws and her fleash. She cried, blinded by ehr own tears even as she fought on. Bitter experience brought the tears and kept them coming, the past having taught her subconcious that it was best to be blind when you lost like this.

Still blind she struggled, kicking and thrashing, screaming insults at a beast that couldn't understand the words and would have cared less if it could have.

It wasn't the first time.

XXX

"York, deal with it!" So saying Darithin shoved his wingmate back towards the others, then he upped the fury of his attacks, slashing and punching at the dark who's lupine inhabitants they could only half see when the light to thier back was at it's weakest. The pack, stuil a handful strong, grudginly drew back, and at that unspoken promise that he'd continue to hold as long as he could solo York took to his heels. Grey encrused rapier in hand he tore towards the camp, having been defending it's very edge the trip wasn't long.

Good thing for his 'mates that.

Absently skewering antoher Nightraid as he ran York paused only to pull the blade out and leap over the collapsing body. Urushi seemed good for now, holding his own with wild swipes at the 'raids that drew too close, it was Noir and Cardinal who needed help the most. Still screaming, half buried in a pile of cookware and the like, Noir held the teeth of one battered looking 'raid with the scraps of her pack and some lumpy length of metal. Less than a foot away, shaking and sprawled, Cardinal was coming too. Whiping blood redened hair out of his face by means of a sharp shake Cardinal cringed back from the sight of Noir 'bout to being eatten, then his hand went down, picked something up and came up with a gleaming length of steel. Them, slowl, so not to draw atteniton the boy stood, twoering over the downed woamn and the beast that seemed intent in burrowing through woman and earth.

_That's one of Noir's knives._ York thought numbly.

The hand went down to grab and came up only to descend in a rush. With a sick crunch it went through the back of the beasts neck. With a death stolen croak the beast colapsed sprawled over the woman it had been hell bent on killing. Noir shoved the carion off with a sharp cry, drew away from the body and was taken by the shakes. The kid, with a whimper, green eyes wide and empty, bent over double and started to vomit. Spraying the front of his torn clothes and chest with half digested dinner, the boy was helpless and oblivious to the approuching shadow to his back.

Screaming out a warning that jarred Noir out of her shock enough to make her aware of the danger, the sound came too late for her to do something constructive about it. Luckily York was a man who could run and shout all at once, he took the monster one with one thrust, all the speed of his dash and anger in his arms went behind the blow.

Overextend, was not the word. Blade seeking black, it foud dark and passed through the empty socket into the grey of a brain. With a screach as it's brain was turned into so much puree'd mush the Nightraid spasomed as York's sword wiggled this way and that and it died. A snap of steel and York staggered back from hsi latest kill half his sword blade still poking out of the thing's head.

Looking at his half blade York's normally palid face went florid. "Son of a-"

"York!" Urushi screeched, clearly "good" had deteriaed to "bad" between then and now.

"I'm coming!" York snapped, throwing his ruined sword to the round and snatching the knife out of Cardinal's numb hands. "Hold on."

For some Lorelie damned reason, York thought as he staggered off to help Urushi. I'm the one who puts it all back together again when everything breaks to slag and splinters.

Lucky me.

XXX

Grabing the last protesting wolf horror Dari held it tight, held it clsoe, than slammed it agianst the uncompramising point of the short sword held in the other hand. Seeing no more of the gloom ridden mosnters to "embrace" Darithin figured it was a good time to see what ruins had been made of his camp. A quick turn on his heel and a few feet or walking satiated that little curiousity real quick.

Scattered around were wolfish bodies pooled in the grey that seeped over his arms and chest. Among the fallern were a slew of familiar faces, sprawled and scattered, some sick from gore and others just sick of gore, they stared at him, from blue eye, to brown eyes, to twin pairs o glimmering green. Considering the wreckage Dari chewed on his lower lip, considering the odds, considering the counters and the die and the damned harsh ahnd Lorelie had jsut thrown his way.

Well two culd play at the bastards game.

"Get up, get our crap, we aren't stopping tonight until we drop!"

THe stared at him, all four of them blank, uncomprehending.

To that he smiled, that was always the case it seemed.

"'Less you want more company of the same stripe..."

To that they finally moved.


	26. Are we there yet, part2

A Family of Idiots

Are we there yet, part 2

_To my readers, _

_Sorry about that, accidentally published he RD, did a second read through and some minor editing to make the read a little easier. _

_Kasan Soulblade_

When they fell it came few at a time. First the lead man dropped, than the captive at thier center, the tail folded next, then the other two collapsed. True to his word Darithin had pushed them till they dropped. There was no squables that night, no blankets thrown to the ground, no meals cooked, merely a folding after a long day and night filled with frantic flight.

Morning came and went unmarked, unseen. Where they fell they didn't stir and it was only when the Chirpees hearlded in the noon by making an attempted luncheon of the group that any bothered to stir. Flaping his hands, Dari spooked the avians about him to take wing, Nir, less merciful, punched her assailaent and nursed a red nose for the rest of the "morning". York. fond of the womewhat nerotic birds, shoed off those nipping at his legs and ribs, and rougishly kept one playull monster purched on his shoulder. Whether or not he was actially saying "whos' a cute little squawks... hmm... hmmm?" wasn't in too much question as the emaciated man scritched the beasts bulbious head murmurrung all sotres of nonsens over the beasts skill. With a coo the bird stretched it's thick neck all the better to nip at the man's scraggly locks.

"What?" York snapped, looking down his long nose at the incredious Cardinal. "So I like birds?"

"That bird is _eating_ you."

"Preening." York sniffed. "It's a sign of firendship amongst birds." Nip, snip went the beak. Rocking back and forth on scally feet the beast snapped at hair, frusterated at it's purches' lack of response. Beady eyes thined in concentration the black yellow grey pits were fixated on the fleashy bit screened by the hair. "Birds are rare where I'm from." York prattled on, poking the beast with a digit to calm it. Seeing the ear beyond nipping range the avian snapped at the retreating fingers, alas it was too slow. Face scrunched in thought, the reluctant thief finished his thought with a whimsical smile. "But then, so are Night Raids."

And with that tactful reminder of last night to kill all conversaion York's whimsical left the smile, the gesture turned a mite sheepish and sickly with sickly being predominant. Hoping to be able to appologize without speaking York softened his hard eye for a bit -the right was covered this day by a black eyepatch- and tried to take back what he said with well meaning silence. The gesture was wasted, spent mostly on Cardinal's retreating back. Shrugging off his discomforture, telling his gut to behave, York teased the Chipee with one finger. The snap of beak on air was a bit... malicious, like teeth on air once upon a time ago... but engrossed in his sport of brooding the emaciate thief hadly notcied.

XXX

Once they fled Noir, her off tune singing had been thier spur and motion, now they fled York. York enertained himself, talking nonsense to a mosnter that -after the first mile- had desolved into squeaky baby talk.

Urushi, who could only wlak so fast for so far resignedly kept pace with York for most of the day. Baring the brunt of the torture he was most apt at summing up the rest of his Wingmate's weary sentiment. Over lunch, knife in hand, Cardinal tok blade to load. With ease he sawed jagged lopsided spans of bread of the baked length. The cheese while softer and less prone to fighting the dull blade was equally lopsided. One end could be parchemnt thin, the other finger thick. Mutely Noir opened the dubious sandwich, and met Cardinal's hostile gaze with a raised eyebrow.

"Yous think we can have chicken for dinner, Dari." Urushi grumbled, eyes rivited on York as hte blue clad Malkuthite tempted his passander with a lump of bread. Eaggerly pecking through the bread the Chirpee was oblivious to the four pairs of eyes considering it for dinner. But then, so was York, who lovingly scolded the bird for eatting so fast and ordered the beast to "watch the fingers" next time.

"Small for a roast." Darithin noted.

"Good for a sandwich filling." Noir pointed out, puting her sandwich togetehr with a grimage. To her subtle criticism Cardinal glared at the woman, a glare witch Noir easily ignored, counting it one of many.

"Stew?" Urushi suggested, looking up the wing's sole cook with some hope.

"Too scrawny." The red clad woman explained, she sniffed at the reasembled sandwitch, as if checking to see if the cheese had curdled under Cardinal's latest glare.

Oblivious to his teammates thoughts of avian-cide York scriteched the top of "Squawks" head, the chirpee cooed seeing oportunities aprouch, but was slow on the uptake. York wihdrew his hand to beter fuss with his belt before the bite could even be atempted. Taking advantace of thier noon rest Urushi sprawled his twisted limbs on the summer brittle grass as if it was springs softest greenest down with a sigh. Kicking off his boots Dari wiggled his exposed feet, oblivious to the smell. Cardinal, who wasn't, wrinkeld his nose in protest but said nothing.

Spying the obvious hole-large flesht pink toes poking out of dull grey cloth did have a ways of catching the eye- Dari squirmed enough so one thick hand could begin it's quest of fishing through his pants pockets.

Seeing all was well with the world -minding that Dari was apparently scrathing his ass- Noir of the Many Colors took a very unlady like chomp out of her sandwitch. The sliced cheese fell out of the back. Ater a swallow and glance down to reairm the truth Noir was quick to act, and the twin hunks of bread sailed through the air to hit the sandwitch's poriginator. With a dull thump -as teh bread had been rather stale and a mite over baked upon purchase- the bread clonked the Wing's second best chief on the head.

"What was that for!" Cardianl snarled.

"Learn how to cook!" Noir snarled back.

Turning as red as his hiar used to be, Cardinal sputtered, then with a few verbal staggers and stumbles came up with a comeback.

"Well... you should lean how t..to dress!"

York looked up from Squawks for the first time since aquiring his "pet", Urushi half roleld over on his side to better enjoy the upcoming show... and Dari, Fianally having located the needle from his back pant pocket shoevled his meaty fingers in deeper in hopes of finding a spool of thread.

"What!" Noir screeched.

Arms folded over his chest, Cardinal glared up at the woman, green met green and the sparks turbo charged the Wing's rest spot.

"D...Didn't your mother teach you how to get dressed o... or do you normally walk around with a half skirt on?"

Clearly Carindal was utering his first taunts, his first delibeately calculated come backs rather than squaking out profanities he only half understood. Urushi leaned his chin in his hands, elbows bent just so so that they'd provide a purch above the grass. It was so endearing to see a little one grow up so fast... York caught his eye and mock wiped at his eyes, as if sheding tears, clearly the emaciated man's thoughts were running on parallel paths of the deformed one's.

Both men shared a nasty smirk and then went to watching the show.

"Listen here you concieed, snott faced, little-"

Having found a spool with a whisp of teal green thread Dari considered his search a sucsess. Using one dirty nair to scrape the tip of the tension bound thread from it's strangle grip on the spool, Dari smirked when it gave a little slack. Pinching the rise, the bandit tugged, sielently the thread came undone, a little bit at a time.

"-you wouldn't know style-"

"If half naked is_ style_ than-"

Giving the tip a little nip to thin it out he pushed it thorugh the hole at the needles top. Or rather, he meant too. First attmept a was a miss, but most first attempts were. Looking up only when Cardinal got as shrill as Noir, Dari considered the situation, and seeing the familiar sight of two firey souls letting off steam teh banidt rolled their spatt from his shoulders with a shrug... and focused on the important thing, sewing the socks' worn edges together.


	27. Are we there yet, part 3

_A Family of Idiots_

_Are we there yet? Part 3_

On the final rise they were sprawled, staring down at their destination that was denied to them. Sporting a few bruises here and there –the guards had been anything but gentle- they nursed swollen lips, black eyes, and a few abrasions all around.

And their sorry state, its cause? All because they had been without papers.

Legs tucked together by a winding arm, Cardinal set his chin upon bent knee, green eyes distant. He'd been near hysterics when they'd approached the crossing, pale face pallid even with a screen of sun scorched skin to mask it. That had held the guards attention, the less than immaculate state of their clothes having caught it. Tattered, torn, blood stained, the state of their wardrobe marked them as bandits rather than the victims of poor fate, and for the state of their ragged demeanor they were turned aside. Darithin, not one to be turned away from anywhere he wanted to go had protested the guard's decision with his fist.

The guards had acted accordingly throwing them off the premises and driving them off when they moved to linger at spear point.

Never mind their actions; it clearly was the paperwork's fault. At least that's what Dari grunted as he sullenly paced amongst them, this arms swinging back and forth. The motions were akin to say another man's exercises before some preplanned fight. Considering how the omnipresent smile had faded to a bitter scowl no one- not even Cardinal- protested or even pointed out the man's gross leap of logic.

"Damn red tape!" Darithin snarled. "Lorelie's damnedest fate my damn dice were loaded!"

Snarling that and other half coherent sacrilegious inanities amongst his silent teammates, Dark seemed ready to pace until he fell through whatever miasma choked hell lay below. Too keyed to sit, York stood and squirmed. Today had been a bad day, from rising and discovering that Squawks was missing to the stringy chicken sandwich that Noir had made him for breakfast was disagreeing with him. Add this to the mix and he had to wonder how long he'd be keeping breakfast down…

Noir, not a thought in her head or a care in the world was sprawled amongst the grass earth, watching the sky roll by. She'd settled for cloud watching once Dari's ranting and pacing turned boring. So long as she didn't stray underfoot, Noir of the many colors, was confident that she'd be fine. Thinking of colors… She left the thought linger, undone, one hand idly plucking the grass outside of sight but made sue that what she pulled was esily in reach. Finding one rather prickly thistle amongst the green Noir got a feel for the burs than carefully plucked it. A few moments of blindly navigating the stem passed, the results being that she held a non-sharp span firmly between two fingers. Still struck with boredom, she amused herself with poking Urushi.

Or rather she poked Urushi's foot, taking a stab at ankle or knee would have required a stretch, and she was feeling lazy just then. Still the efforts while unfelt didn't go unnoted. Having spent the first span of Dari's rant watching, Urushi had –upon realizing that this was going to be a _long_ one- caught Noir's mood. (The lazy one that was). But he only indulged once he knew that he'd worked hard enough to earn it. Pulling out a rag he'd polished the metal top of his staff gleamed like silver. With a careful twist of the top the false bottom of his walking stick came swung open. Black encrusted the once gleaming blade, so with a sigh he got to work scrubbing and scraping, the black coming off in gummy little lumps that caught under his nails.

"What we need is…" Dari let the thought drop, chewing beyond his lower lip and cannibalizing his beard's base one nibble at a time.

Shook out of his daze Cardinal sniffed in quiet disdain at the Wing's Leader's melodrama. To that the other three wing's winced, York revoked any thought that Cardinal might be sharpening up, Urushi went pocket diving for his whetting stone –the blade was duller than Cardinal's brains. Oblivious to the mounting drama that he had instigated Cardinal carefully un embraced his bent knees, folding them with careful regard and absent grace.

"Is?" The boy snapped, nose wrinkling at the ripe order of unwashed travel worn bodies that were all about. Blissfully oblivious to the fact that had he asked his companions would have proudly pointed out that he was the worse smelling of the lot. "That implies one thing, and we need several. How about a bath, official papers, and a change of clothes so we don't look like bandits?" The boy suggested dryly.

"No." Darithin grinned at the insubordination he'd praise than punish if the whim took him. "What we need is a distraction."

Having let the bitter thistle drop at the beginning of the boy's "chat" Noir amused herself by winder her fingers between the cool yet dry grass. Not plucking this time, just running her fingers through and delighting in the simple pleasures of thoughtless sensation. She was bored as Cardinal, exasperated with Dari's forays into the over dramatic turns of phraise and staged pauses that was the prelude to some half hatched plot that would lead nowhere. They were stuck, end of story, all had been said save a snide "now what?" and a plan B being ablibbed.

Clearly Dari just didn't know enough of how the world ran to realize that just yet.

With a yawn Noir decided it wasn't her problem and went back to watching the sky. Her eyes reflected the bypassing sky and clouds in shades of emeralds and spring shoots. Patiently Cardinal waited for Dari to explain, delighting in his audience of one's total attention Dari did what any amaturish actor would have done than, he stretched his silence from the realm of melodrama to the world of boring. Only tipped off when Cardinal yawned in his face then went from standing to sitting, from sitting to sprawled, the bandit looked down at his "loot" with a faintly wounded expression on his face.

Trying to reclaim the magic Dari struck a pose and explained further.

"What we need is a _big_ distraction."

Only York looked worried, but the man wsa always freting about something of the other, so he didn't count. Labor done, Urushi was stretching on the summer brittled grass like it was springs softest greens, and that made a total of three of his four wing's down. When York muttered something about nature calling and bolted to have his mid day hurl Darithin dropped his pose, his face twisting into an unfamilair very unDari-like scowl of irritation. Four of the four down, how... disappointing. Humming the bawdy song Noir had been singing a day ago to better excise the ditty from memory Urushi tossed his hat from hand to hand, two pairs of green eyes were casting the sky in shades of emeralds, and by the sound of it York was trying to hack up a lung.

Forcing his smile back in place Darithin barked at them, it was time to get up and doing. Obediant, one and all, they got up and though they cast him questioning glances they obliged his cheary command of "forward". Casting glances at each other when they thought he wasn't looking -long, dark, glances that comunicated a kind of resigned wonder at Dari's crumbling facade of sanity- they trailed after him like a pack of Liger cubs. Dawn by boredom, a sense of having nothing better to do, and a bitter resignation -after all the bridge was all but closed with barbed wire at this point- that this was probably going to maybe get them killed where going back was _certian_ to get them killed, they toed the line.

And if it wasn't with enthusiasm, it could at the very least be said that when the Dark Wings went forward... well... they went forward.


	28. Distraction part 1

A Family of Idiots

Crossing the Bridge: Preparing the distratction

_a/n: Written to "Dark World" from SSBM... guess the slow pace is disuading anyone from reading this story anymore... ah well._

The problem was the knees. He first spotted the issue when he'd discreetly lagged ehind to hitch the belt Darithin had givne him back up. It was all because of the knife Noir had given him, so therefore i was all her fault. Impossible heavy -or rather, considering the give impossible dense- the oversized belt -Dari's gift from dust Chesidonia- tended to sag in the most awkward of times. When that happene he'd slow down so that Urushi could pass him by than a quick tug and clench and he hurried to catch up again. On one of his frequesnt journys to the tail of the party, that's when he saw the problem.

The boy they called Cardinal was a simple boy in some fields, and he liked his problems solved upon sight. Being rather self reliant he got to solving it himslef, confident that if any other tried they'd bungle it up.

Or rather he_ tried_ to fix the problem.

A few swipes at his pants and the green streaks around his knees didn't come off. Daring a few harder swats that got the knobly joints to sting Cardinal; was rather miffled to find the freen was ground in. Not daring to linger for fear of being left behind Cardinal had let the issue go, at least fo a little. After a few minutes he slowed again, and oce confident no one was watching he tried to pinch the smears off of is pants. Only when he put enough pressure to the fabris to make the fleash under it a little sore did he stop with an irritated sigh. This time he had to run to cathc up, he joined the thieves and was greeted with some curious glances but no concern. Shrugging of thier looks Caridnal kept pace for a full half hour before the moist, green, patches about his knees inspired other thorught and for the sake of varaite he darted ahead to a patch of bushes to attend nature's call.

Once done with _that_ he scratched at one of the green spands on his pants hoping to gouge out the loathsome stains.

No luck.

Snarling an explitift that he didn't really understand, Cardinal left the stains alone for now. There would be other opportunites and measures to rid him of the problem. He'd just have to wait it out.

As he joined them agian, taking to the rear of the train of bandits, thieves, and the like to better avoid thier contamination the crippled one looked at him. Hard brown eyes soft with sympathy the man stared at him, Cardinal stared beyond him. Holding to the hope that if he ignored Urushi the squat thief would find something else to look at. Clearing his throat, a tentive sound preluded to a conversation half dreaded, Urushi shifted his cane from left hand to right, clearly struggling with some weighty idea. Finally, realizing his hope was in vain, the boy they called Cardinal stopped, waited...

It wasn't a long wait, a shame that.

With another delicate cough it came, laced with pity, sympathy, and ended in a note of inquiry.

All in all that was impressive considering how all of the above was packed into one sylable.

"Trots?"

XXX

They passed the gaurd post for a second time, slaunted down the hill past the check point some time ago. Parallelling it instead of breaking through, they took the well worn road only so far before deviating out off some imaginary trail that hadn't been trod before. They did so with an audiance of sullen stares. Sullen became grim when Dari called a halt by halting himself. They passed him by, only realizing that he had stopped and meant to stop for good in bits and pieces.

Smiling wide Dari waived to those who had forcefully evicted him from the bridge.

Turning crimson as her hair had once when Cadinal had met her Noir stormed up to Dari, smacking the waving hand lightly.

Grin in place, Dari looked down on her from his imposing height. "Just being _friendly,_ Noir." Dari drawled, pulling a passible impersination of Noir's mannersim and an all out mockery of her voice.

"Sh... Shut up and walk!"

"But Noir!" Dari pouted, blue eyes briming with wicked amusement. "There's nothing wrong with being _friendly-_"

With a snarl the Wing's sole female paced around her leader, and finding his back -not much of a search involved there- she pushed on his broad back get him to march forward. Gamely going along with the shoves, Dari was conent to be manhandled by the Wing's sole woman member. His chuckles and the skid of his reluctant tracks marked their path, at least for a while.

XXX

In theroy they were supposed to be crossing the bridge.

Armed with a branch apiece they pitted thier impromptue fishing poles against the elements. Siting side by side, thier line of many types stretched before them in a skien of thread, string and rope.

To no ones surprise the fish weren't biting, so they fell to rangling amongst themselves. Patience worn by the seeming insanity that marked his life day to day Cardinal joined in with a bitter stripe of acidic spite for them and the world at large. The fighting had hit the point that Dari had intervined, his short patience spent and now all save Dari nursed a smarting scalp.

"Soup." Cardinal hissed from the corner of his mouth.

"Sandwich." Noir hissed back.

"Whatever!" York cackled, his voice all but spent after participating in another yelling match. "Can we cook them now, or not?"

For the uninitiated York had been whining about cooking the fish since lunch -now dinner- since the sun had reached it's peak. Presently the sun was setting in front of them, tinting the waves that crept at them with such lackluster efforts in shard reds and golds. Cardinal and Noir had -after Dari had taken the knives from them from thier supid fight about economics, half of it he hadn't been able to follow- been aruing ovre how to cook the fish. After Dari's rebuke they had been sulenly silent fo a while, than devolved into "quietly" sniping coking sugestions at each other. Raising his fishing pole, it's rope end slugishly slithering out of the sea water at his tug, Darithin looked over at the fighting, passionante, once-upon-a-time-ago red heads. Both fell quiet, though Noir ribbed Cardinal when she thought Dari wasn't looking.

Order resored the black bearded bandit went back to fishing, and proceeded to catch nothing. Luckily for them all the man to his left was doing much better than the rest of them put together.

Yelling that he'd caught a "big one" Urushi howled for help. With a sigh York scrambled to his feet and helped the squat man reel up fish number twenty six.

Behind Urushi lay a grim and reeking pile. Having long forsaken thier flopping, they were still and getting riper by the minute. Luckily for them all the wind was tugging thier hear away fom their faces and throwing the smell to their backs. Glassy eyes glossy in death, they stared at heaven mouths slack, as if in awe. Such was the mask death had imprinted on those scally faces.

Served the little bastards right. Looking to his back Dari saw no fish, and he'd see no fish if he lingered here rope and stick in hand until the world's closing Score was read and done.

That realization was the breaking point of his patience for the second time that day. Calling it quits just as the bloody nub on the red skin of the ocean dipped below sight Dari threw his last cast. With a colorfull fanfair creeping a the sun's fast retreating heels Dari cast hook, line, sinker, and rod into the darkening pool with a curse. Tantrum passed, he glared at the water, seething, then with a deep breath got his temper back to somewhere like normal.

"Pick up the loot, we're leaving!"

Confused expressions came, one and all. The Wings looked to Cardinal who looked to the obfusified Wings.

It went without saying that the look that he bore warned of bites, punches, and kicks if they dared try to pick him up. Experience told them all what that grim spark that took home amongst the green meant. The green eyes went flat with malice the second Urushi shifted towards him. Rubbing his suddenly sore wrist, Urushi took a step back, hands up in obvious surrender and... a subtle mutiny of sorts. Not bothering to turn Dari stopped, waited, and when no sound of fighting sounded smirked with something like genuine warmth in his eyes. Being where they were and where he was they didn' get to see it however.

"The _fish_ you idiots."

And with that final bit of clarification he took the point, leaving them to scramble amongst themselves to carry the "loot" and catch up. Luck being with him... his luck beign bad it was his hope that he might move so fast, they might be so shocked, that he wouldn't have to carry any of Urushi's stinking catch.

So, with hope and luck Darithin lead them, putting some speed into it as well.


	29. disraction part 2

A Family of Idiots

Crossing the Bridge: Distraction, Fragments

"Oh _boys_!" Triumphant, crowing, Noir tossed the gawking guards a fish apiece, her ride staggered forward. Titan in size, shell a mess of jags remniscent to lightning strikes streaking up in reverse, and each footfall striking earth like a rumble of approuching thunder, the blue scaled behomoth saw the offering, just out of reach, and rolled on in after the treat.

With identical squeals of terror the two Malkuthite guards dropped the slimmy fish, their weapons, and any patriotic duty as they bolted into the night.

Cackling a shrill, insane, laugh, Noir of the many colors was drunk on the potent brew of safe risk taking. Confident in her saftey, seeing her foes flee before her she cackled like a crone and enthusiastially drumed on the back of her nearest Wingmate.

Urushi, cane jammed between his teeth like a dog would hold a favorite stick, frame wrapped around a thick length of the lizard's spine, was in no shape to complain. It was all he could do to hold on, and the cane being chomped down on added more complications than to make speaking wothwhile... So he endured and cringed as the potent smell of fish and lizard filled the air and made his nose itch.

With a sickening crunch the beast plowed through the checkpoint, breaking through wood walls like they were paper. The blue, steel helmeted Malkuth guards, seeing deah bearing down on them bolted, abandoning thier posts and hollering out a warning to the men and women of the Malkuth army that held the bridge against the potetnial threat of a Kimlascan invasion. Prepared to face armies, they qualied before the tighten of a tortise that came knocking with only a handful of lunitics leading it about. The beast, indifferent to what it stepped on and where it went so long as it could chase and eat the fish being tossed just out of it's reach, crushed soldiers and baracks with no consideration as to what -or who- it smashed.

XXX

"No!"

Arms crossed, green eyes glinting, Cardinal stared up at his second batch of captors, terror replacing the stoic, unflapable, facade that he'd held up to them before. With this contrast it was easy to see how false was the second when compared to the truth of the first. Little wonder he protested and fought, York would think once he had the time to look back at it all, little wonder considering how the boy's other captors had left him teathered after beating him like a dog. As it was, that was in the future that York would recall than consider the torture the inadvertantly inflicted.

Later, much later during some dark long watch he would confess it to Dari like a man would confess his sins to a priest, but that was later and not now.

Now... Well for now he cursed when Cardindal fought. Cursed the bites and the scratches, the uterly rude kicks that had landed on his masculinity, and the singing spot on his scalp where he was positive he was now bald. Scraping his long hands over his skull -minding the stinging spot- York grumped and swore at the Wing's youngest member.

Bound but not gagged, with a long length of leash besides, Dari considered thier screaming captive's words for a long moment, then pulling the smallest of the fish from the pile.

"You either shut up or _be_ shut up." The exasperated Wing's leader spat, almost ramming the slimmy bit of raw, dead, animal up Cardinal's nose to show how he the boy would "_be _shut up" if he kept fighting.

Cardinal gaged at the smell, and after a moment Darithin withdrew the fish, taking the half choked whimper as surrender.

"Now." Picking up a bit of leash Dari tugged and Cardinal trudged along, eyes fixed on the ground, utterly defeated in that one instance. "Let's get to that damned monster's cave before it gets any later. We've got fishing to do."

XXX

They'd lowered him, fish stuffed in mouth for he had screamed upon seeing that he was to be lowered into the dark and had fought and bit and almost had gotten free. The reek and the taste as well as the drubbing Dari had done to sedate him kept him quiet.

But not from shaking, and not from crying.

Despite his protests, to spite them, they had lowered him down to be consumed by a stiffling, acidic smelling dark that had two gleaming gold eyes. Seeing the eyes, recalling words half absorbed during the fight he'd spat out the fish, tugged frantically at the rope, squirmed and kicked.

And the bell, one bell among the twine, had jangled for his efforts.

Above, beyond, on the tip of the cliff sheathed in moonlight, the Wing's had listened. A shrill whistled and he'd been pulled up, the monster's fangs snapping at his heels, so close to his heels that the tip top of the beak had pulled one boot free...

Eyes still smarting, mouth and nose stuffed until full of the vile smell of uncooked fish, the boy the called Cardinal looked up at Noir's cackling, squaling, triumph, Dari's smug grin, and York and Urushi's suffering and didn't feel a thing at all. He just shook and held on as the monster lumbered across the bridge and "nicely smashed through all the damn red tape" Dari noed with a girn, as well as people, rest stops, and the benches that were placed on the edges of the bridge to accomidate thsoe few pedestrians who went over. Cringing at each crunch, Cardinal just held on, his short cropped black hair whiping in his face as the beast merrily walked against the wind and budding resistance that the Malkuthite guards were putting up.

He was allowed his wallow in apathy for a full minute, then was woke up by a falsh of silver streaking his way. With an oath he just heard Dari use Cardinal came back to the world of the living and sane. Spending the rest of the ride intent on cringing against one of the beasts quills so not to get hit by the Malkuthie fonists thrown lightning bolts and growing number of arrows.

XXX

Revelations came quick and fast.. and were very unwelcome when theyhit. That was the truh of... well upcoming truth's, and Noir's biter, dark, truth came out like a screech of one dying,

"We're out of fish!" Noir screamed.

The beast under them groaned, as if in understanding, it's flat dead eyes rolled up to consider it's passangers in a hungry light.

To Noir's shriek Dari swore. "Everyone down! Off! Now!"

They scrambled to obey, save Urushi who looked down and looked up at his leader in mute entreaty, terror obvious in his watery brown eyes.

"Cardinal, help him down!"

Shaking himself out of some daze the boy looked at Urushi, took in the terror, and there wasn't a spot of sympathy or piy in Birdies eyes, only a kind of creepy resignation. Spurred more by Cardinal's flat eyes than any of Dari's bluster, Urushi let go his hold and jumped down with a shrill scream.

"Follow 'im down!" Dari snarled over his shoulder, then not waiting to see if he was obeyed the Wing's leader shoved Noir than York off of the monsterous turtle's shell.

XXX

Screaming they fell, landing they scattered becoming lost in the press as the mob in blue was intent on coming and they were hell bent on going.

At least that's how it was supposed to go.

Landing Urushi came up screaming, his malformed legs shaking, the splinters of his staff in his right hand the jaggs imbedded in his left. Gamely he tried to walk, managing a few sketchy steps then a stagger. Hands, calloused and cold, caught him before he fell. He was caught and after a few moments the arm and body attached to them was supporting him. Blinking down at black hair and razor sharp green eyes Urushi considered his savior in stupified confusion. His "savior" was having none of that, with a curse and a tug he got Urushi moving, and to that prompt -and the obvious farm sized threat to his back- Urushi got to moving without voicing one of the questions bubbling in his throat.

Considering he was torn between screaming like a loon at the fruit's of Dari's labor, and from fainting from gratitiude that he was being saved from a source he'd never expect saving from... Urushi did the smart thing.

He swallowed his protests and just got to running.

XXX

When the sun reached i's zenith following the sickly, declining, swell of the moon's descent, it glinted on steel. Row on row of steel helmets approuched, the dust of thier orgin still clinging to thier boots but did little to dull the splender of the shine on the sacred scales and notes eched into the metal by holy fonon and artes. Amongst the steel was a spectre of black, a warrior who's silloet was toped with quills cast in hues of purity and light. Spectre and warrior stood side by side, walking amonsgt the wreckage, offering no consideration to the fallen. Threading amongst structural damage as if it were merely a patch of thistles on a well kept path, the two contrasts and all with them went forward with forward looking gazes that saw none of the destruction or the weckage on the sidelines.

In stead of action they stepped around. In place of healing they gave the sight of thier backs as they bypassed the hands of the needy without looking back. As for comfort... they gave the route, the tired and the true explaination for the unexpected.

"This was decreed by the Score therefore it must happen. All that is, all that shall be, all stives for one goal. To fufull the Score of prosperity."

And amongst the mass, the mess of victums and the passerby, all save two believed it.

Voice harsh, forced back the folds of black in a hard whisper came the question, it was expected, anticipated, and easily answered, but must be said.

"Was this Foretold?"

"No."

And amongst two of those who presued, there were many questions in that little exchange, unspoken and for the time being unanswerable.


	30. Intermission Part 1

A Family of Idiots

A short Intermission

Aside one: Obligation

It was a particular form of madness. Spoken than promptly banished. The idea was made taboo upon contemplation, then dwelled upon anyway. As time passed matters became harder and harsher, for being left unspoken, the thought dwelled on in silences, never gone and never forgotten. Mad, maddening, obligation mounted, and in its honor a sacrifice must be made.

She ceased to talk, grew to rely upon gestures and nods to give command, and her eyes of course. Those expressive, ineffable, emerald eyes.

Insufferable the silence hung over her head, as she sipped her tea and smiled and nodded at the world at large, it grew and swelled. Bloated until bursting, but refusing to break. Its birth had begun with a simple phrase offered upon pen and paper, a request and command, both given and taken from a far flung place beyond fable, beyond word.

_We need to talk…_

Few noticed the change, the subtle edge to her growing quiet. Still, it was there, a shroud of silence with it's razor edges glistening. Silence swelled up the whole of her throat. Sure and swift as sickness, more absolute for being self inflicted, she spoke not a word. Servants (truth be told, extended family, for names were known by all, tales freely given and taken between the "Lady of the House" and themselves) cast inquiring looks too and fro amongst themselves.

Never at her, for there was only one answer, that unsettling, sickening silence…

"No more letters from this Nahm Combodian place." Lord Fabre's ultimatum hung about the air, a disquiet ghost that was precursor to the death of talk. "Burn them Remdas. Every. Single. One." Each word was enunciated slowly, carefully, heavily, as if they were coated with filth and must be set aside with such care least they reemerge.

Watery brown eyes downcast the head of servants nodded, murmured the expected "As my lord commands" than said nothing at all. Confident that he was to be obeyed Duke Fon Fabre had swept from the room, silk robes rustling about his heels, militant boots clocking against the tiled floors. Only when a door or two had been slammed shut and separated servant from master did Remdas stir. Lifting his head, Remdas held the tarnished pages in hand and began his trek. Passing one candle flame, than another, than a fireplace, he never paused to drop his burden, instead making his quiet way to the room of his Lady. Staked out and claimed, and lined with frilly feminine things that others imagined a noble lady might like without consenting her first.

Seeking entry, he was allowed it in the most unconventional of ways. She opened the door herself, understanding that to hold to her quiet he would never know that it was safe to enter. Upon passing the portal, Remdas bowed low, a few graying locks sliding past his cap and into his eyes. He tucked them back in place even as he rose, formalities slipping past his lips as absently as the motion that he used to put the what was out of place where it belonged.

"Lady Fabre…"

She shook her head, smiling a tired smile upon a pallid face. The gesture was enough to coax him to stand, though she hadn't spoken. She made her retreat from door to comfortable chair with careful steps, for that's how she walked always, with care. For to do otherwise invited accident, perchance disease, and none -be them Lord of the house or lowly servant- would inflict such hardships on one who was already and so obviously suffering. Wrapped back in her cocoon of comforter, set as close to the fire as the chair be placed and not risk an errant ember, Susan Fabre patiently waited. Clearing his throat, Remdas looked at the parchment and paper in his hands. Steady hands, the servant laid claim to, though those hands should have been shaking. In doing this he was defying his Lord, he could be dismissed for such folly, and a man his age would not find work growing upon trees. Not with a mark of dishonor, of violating trust and orders, and if that came to be, what of him, his family... Such deadly queries rang in his mind, had been upon his mind for so long now. It was a troubled stirrings of the earth of his conscious that shook age old foundations of reason and logic...

Still, she smiled, at him, his appearance, and his burden. His Lord had been the death of her speech "_Speak not of this place, seek it not, it's all madness_" he could not, would not, be the death of her joy.

For such joy was scarce and though often rimmed by tears it was _something_.

So he spread the pages and papers in his hands, reading off impossible sounding places, so varied and widespread he might as well have been a child with an orb of Auldrent in hand rattling off the various places that caught his eye. Reading spidery script and sharp, rattling off the phonics caught in symbols etched with feathers tipped pens dipped in ink, or the symmetric, flawlessly formed, mechanically born made by fonin driven "typewriters" favored by Sheriden. In hands so frantic as to be illegible, to those so grandiose he grimaced at the swollen symbols. He wondered even as he read, marveled at the variety and contents of what he read, going over a discourse then -as ordered- casting it in the fire after it was pursued. Though she grimaced –it was as close to speaking as she ever came these days- she endured the small destructions without comment.

_I bear news, news from impossible places: From the Impeiam Malkuth, Grand Chokma, Malkuth, Endive, Malkuth, Kaitzuier. The Royal seal of Kimlasca Laventeer is here, from it's provence of Blekend, and of course the palace founded in our Palace of Light, Batical. The Mercentile Empirium of Cheesidonia sends word and requests trade agreements. The Most Holy Sanctuary, Daath, sends it's condolences and hopes and prayers._

"News, my lady, From Nam Combodia, Dem-aw-cray-see city-state." He stuttered over the odd title, even as his mind was boggled at the insanity of it all. The hypothetical system of government was a mad man's fantasy. One that spoke of giving a "voice to the people" and other oddities that his teachers had firmly ingrained and trained into him were madnesss. Clearly worked, despite being insane, for the mysterious place set on the tip of nowhere, wherever nowhere was. Considering it all was taboo, Remdas shoved back thoughts of insane governments and hypothetic forbidden peoples from the back of his mind. There such thoughts would sit on the back shelf until then ext letter arrived, to stir up all those conflicting thoughts again. Still, it lingered in the back for now. All he knew and needed to know was that Nam Combodia _was_ a place. Both young Master Luke and young Master Asch had said confirmed it's existence by word of mouth. And one did not disagree with royalty, nor Masters, such a thing was Not Done, so despite it's madness apparent in the thought he accepted and endured.

Already leaning forward as if to savor his each and every word, and had she not been on the edge of her chair she would have scooted closer at that name. As it was, he was grateful she could not, of rather that she had the sense not too. For Lady Fabre surely would have slipped out of the chair and had a bad fall dared she an inch more. Clearing his throat, Remdas looked up, dared a smile, then perused the contents, reading as he went, struggling minimally with the mix mash of scrawling script and swollen capital letters. Luckily for him this time the letter was very short. More a note really, than anything other type of discourse.

"From a Ms. Noir Scarlett, To a Mrs. Lady Fabre,

Lady Fabre,

I hope this finds you well. Your previous letter got to us, and per your situation we'll make special arrangements to honor your request. We'll send instructions to Natalia in a weeks time.

Noir Scarlett."

Raising an eyebrow, Remdas considered the Lady of the house with his watery brown eyes, trying to appear sever and failing utterly if that small smile his Lady cast his way was an indicator of anything

"And what mischief are you planning, my Lady?"

Her only reply was a smile. And unlike all the smiles before it, it was a wide smile, a _good _one. So broad grew her mirth that -ever a Lady, and Noble besides- she lifted a hand to better shield it from his eyes. Above her raised hand, hardly obscured, and more vibrant than ever, were Lady Susan Fabre's green eyes. They sparkled and danced with a cheery mirth that the hand could never hide nor could any attempt at a solemn expression ever mask. And whatever her mischief -for surely there was some afoot- he asked no more of it. For he wouldn't spoil it, nor deprive her a pleasure, not for all the world.


	31. Are we alright here?

Family of Idiots

Alright

He'd been allowed a watch, last watch. It was a mercy, in an odd way. An unexpected one, but there all the same. He'd be awake before them, was allowed his thoughts and privacy, and was spared the wraith and chore of waking up the next person to share watch. Considering how free the bandits were with their knives upon waking there lied the mercy. Though agile and well trained he was still a boy, a weary and wounded boy who could only move so fast.

And seeing the hellish speed the thieves he was about could act on when surprised…

It spared him from dodging knives first thing in the morning, knives that would hit, training or no.

Watching the road behind, the child considered the path behind them, no thoughts of what was to come ahead. He wasn't allowed those thoughts, for the smiling bandit Dari might be smiling, but he ran them all with an iron fist.

"We get there when we gets there." Urushi had advised sagely, once they'd abandon beast they'd ridden past the checkpoint to the Malkuth Military.

"And where's there?" The boy had snapped, running a hand through shockingly short, black, locks.

"When we gets there, I'll tell ya." Urushi had promised.

Annoyed with the squat man's amusement the child had picked up his pace all the better to bypass the content thief.

He was hardly content, never happy, and thought they traveled both North and East (not quite Northeast, but a little of both, a direction a day) going Lorelie knew where his heart and gaze frequently went South. He was in Malkuth, and every school boy of Kimlasca knew that the civilization of Malkuth was clustered about its northern capital. Placed as close to the peak of the world as climate and convenience allowed, Malkuth wallowed in it's stagnant waters, and it was the farthest point possible from where he wanted to be.

Still, for now, unarmed and in hostile country, he dared nothing. So he traveled with the mad maddening thieves, tolerating profanity and the little cruelties that made the group work so well. And as the miles complied, taking him further and further, from home he always looked back. He couldn't' help himself.

They treaded the dusty ribbon that stretched from Ronilto bridge to the varied destinations within Malkuth. Their boots swiftly grew to match the path's hue, even as the hills swelled about them. Along the track no growth grew, it bore scars from wagon wheels as many a caravan had treaded this ground so many times their passing was marked. Eternal it seemed, for though the earth could and would heal about the edges of such, the wound did not.

Such all was left was dust, dull brown and flaky, akin to the texture of ashes.

Shivering at a sudden chill, the one they called Cardinal considered the dusty path before them and the dust choked world they'd left behind. Save for the lack of infernal heat this road was the same as the road behind them.

And that thought scared him more than anything else, more than all of what had been and what would be, combined.

XXX

"You eat you sing." Dari snapped, thrusting the dirty dishes into their newest recruits limp looking hands. Satisfied that Cardinal had a good grip, Dari let his burden go. Ignoring Cardinal's grunt as the boy accepted the weight that Dari considered fitting to a "light" load of dishes (and learning that Dari's "light" was hellishly heavy) the Wing's leader was confident that Cardinal could get by. After all cleaning dishes didn't take a genius. Duty done and done well (meaning he didn't have to do it) Dari turned on his heel. The matter was settled, he was the leader so it went without saying that he hadn't left one thing out...

"There's no water, we don't have enough in our packs to waste it washing junk like this." the boy they called Cardinal protested, hotly, to Dari's back.

Ignoring tone, for the words were important enough and held a valid concern, Dari turned and shot off a trademark smirk at the boy.

"You wanna have bugs, or rather have bugs eatin' you?"

Mutely the boy shook his head, black locks chasing each other to tickle his ears.

"Than talk to York, he'll solve the water problem."

And with that as his instruction Dari moved as if to go on his own way.

"York!" Half wail, whole protest, Cardinal almost dropped the dishes. Still, the child tightened his grip, despite his shock. To drop those dishes and break them would be to suffer another beating. He'd seen Dari strike his "Mates" for similar accidents or gestures of petty wastefulness. And, closer to truth though he'd never have told, he knew that despite his age wouldn't exempt from the Dark Wing's casual cruelties.

Not wanting to waste the time to repeat the obvious, Dari just kept on walking. Leaving Cardinal behind, bypassing an amused Noir all the better to catch up with Urushi. The squat man was in the front at once and he damned well should have been considering the man was holding watch on the edge of their camp. If Urushi wasn't there when Dari got there there would be hell to pay.

"York." Cardinal protested, looking to Noir who was slightly sympathetic to him from time to time. Considering the boy's tone, the word, and the fact that she was busy sewing up a ripped seam in a rather indelicate place of her pants Noir smiled. No physical humor today, not when getting this sewn right now while there was still light out meant that she could wear something semi clean tomorrow.

"Scrawny guy, normally has blond hair, has an eye patch fetish." The once upon a time red head bantered, lips curled in a naughty grin. "They guy who likes guys, as in _like like_."

Gnashing his teeth together, Cardinal snarled at the woman, another once upon a time red head, like himself.

"Really sweetheart." Noir teased affably. "Do that too much and you'll break your jaw."

"Oh shut up!" Cardinal flared.

To that Noir laughed and got back to the important thing, sewing that Lorelie be damned seam. Tricky as hell sliding the thread though the right places, daring a puncture here to make a bind there. Too tight and it'd look whole and hale only to snap at the slightest bit of pressure, too loose and...

Well, considering _where_ she was sewing either thought wasn't pretty.

XXX

Amused by Cardinal's rather stilted request and the following explanation, the Wing's "think man" gave orders phrased as a requests, and to that -once the surprise had passed- Cardinal folded rather tamely. No gnashing of teeth or threatening glares came his way, and to that York smiled. Once again he'd proved that a silken touch was a thousand times's better than an iron fist. Alas, there was no Dari to show this off too. Never was, actually, considering the other times York had taken tome to make this point. Dari was always gone when you needed him. Ah well, no pains save to the ego, and he had enough of that to put a little thought a light bruising. Surrounded by pots, pans, buckets, and anything vaguely suitable to hold water, York flexed his fingers in preparation for the Arte that was needed of him,.

Considering the number of water holding receptacles (a quick series of head bobs confirmed the count) doing dishes was the least of what he could do. Dreamily he imagined a laundry day, or maybe a long over due bath. Hell, correct than confirm, there'd be a bloody group cleaning even if he had to douse some of his less fastidious "mates" with the bucket to make it happen. It was the least he could do to alleviate the torment that his nose went thought day in and day out. The very _very_ least.

Tugging on said organ, the reluctant thief, sometimes bandit, turned this way and that. Count reconfirmed, and more importantly, facing in such a way that he could see most of the receptacles, York smirked.

Perfect, everything was perfect.

Well, save one little thing...

"Cardinal, get my packs and the soap, why don't you?"

The pale slip of a boy nodded and scampered off to obey and once the child was wholly preoccupied with rooting through York's things the emaciated man's smirk warmed to a real smile. Patting his pant pocket, where the soap already resided, York chuckled. He wished the boy the best of luck, but a thief hardly played fair.

Now, onto other things...

Fingers properly warmed up and limber the reluctant thief idly tapped one digit against his pointed chin. He recalled the chant of course (something about deluge, he was sure, and torrent at the end) but it was those damned fonic glyphs that did him in. Those seductively circled, curling, sigils that you had to keep in your head while saying the words. To Noir, and Urushi, and (sadly) Dari a line was a line, a curl a curl (like how North was North, if you needed a rather tasteless example). Regardless, his "Mates" as it were never took the complexities in hand. Had they seen or ever (Heaven forefend, if there was a heaven that was) summon a fonic glyph their first and last thoughts would have been "pretty". They'd never dream to wonder about symmetry, the slant of the angles, the circumference of the circle. So, to make up for their lack, he always wondered about this or that part of the symbol. Most of the time he'd get so caught up in his wonderings (and the math that inevitable followed) that he lost track of the chant entirely.

Which was why he wasn't the group's battle fonist, well, that was one of the reasons anyway.

Closing his eyes, slender fingers spread wide, York began the chant. Like a bird unfurling it's wings the fonic runes burst into being all within the confines of his head. Blue of course, it was blue and wonderfully convoluted, and to that he smiled. No bird, not even one the Score willed, could fly on asymmetrical wings, right?

Right.

So just to make sure this bird of his would fly right and true he idly started checking the "wings" even as he stuttered through the chant. He lost it entirely as he started bisecting a triangular protrusion on the left side of the symbol even as his preoccupied mind tried to figure out the area of the left. Like a fon tech light being switched of the symbol went out and he was lost alone in the dark behind his own eyes.

Damn it, he'd have to do it all over again.

Tugging on the scraggly hairs that were sprouting from his chin due to a few days (too many really) without a shave York tugged hard enough to set tears in his eyes and check the scream budding in this throat. With a somewhat more sedate whimper to express his frustrations York shook his head and decided to try again. Better than screaming, more productive. Cracking open his right eye (the left bore the patch this day) York considered Cardinal. The lazy boy was yapping with Noir about something, than starting guiltily the child went back to rooting through his packs. With a grunt York closed his eyes, Cardinal would keep distracted if not productively busy, which was fine by York's ego. After all, he had the soap and all, it wasn't like Cardinal was doing anything useful.

X'

"Oh Caaaardinal!"

Looking to Noir, who was always clad in red, half clad at best, and sprawled inelegantly in rest, the one called out too dredged up a grimace of irritation. Used to irritation and worse from her "loot" Noir just smiled. Raising one hand, she beckoned him near, and despite himself Cardinal came. She looked quickly, left than right, shame Dari wsan't about he'd of loved to see that the Birdie could come when called. You just didn't have to yell a him, that's all...

"My name's not Cardinal." The boy snapped, even as he approached.

Again, it expected, his snapping that was. Another part of an unspoken, unacknowledged, script between the two of them. Smiling more at the familiarity of it all than in scorn, Noir shrugged. Her "whatever" while unspoken, was not unfelt. The boy's green eyes thinned ever so slightly in distaste. Still, under that facade Noir caught a glinting of gratitude. The expected (and dreaded) "What's your name than, sweetheart" never came. It was the obvious question, but she never spoke it, acted as if his name was the farthest thing from her mind. With a stretch and yawn she snuggled against her packs and blankets. Leting her sewing get forgotten for the moment.

"Lookie there."

So saying she pointed and Cardinal looked as expected. Fonic runes of deepest blue were licking about York's feet. Darker than sky but not as dark as he shades that came before sunset, where light dies, such was the illumination that seeped from the symbols being born at York's feet. Long face scrunched, as were the eyes though they were shut, the emaciated man's lips twitched as he muttered something to himself.

Green eyes twinkling, Noir's smile once friendly turned a touch... cruel.

"And five... four..." The runes flickured, dimmed... "three...two..." with a shudder that twisted the gut just to watch..."one." The symbols broke apart with a gurgle. As the light faded a fine dew was reveled. Where there had once been unearthly illumination upon the grass was where the droplets settled, scattering pseudo diamonds upon the blades. With a grimace, York lifted a foot, shook off the few specks of water on his left foot, than did the same to the right. Grumbling and swearing, York shuffled a few steps to the right... And the one they called Cardinal felt a blush coming on. There was a kind of shame at seeing failure despite all the obvious effort... Ducking his head, pretending to be digging though the packs before him, York's paranoid gaze went up and about as he checked up on his Wing Mates. Obviously the man was as he confirmed if anyone had noticed got him, and because he wasn't subtle York got what he expected. Noir was sewing, Cardinal rummaging, and Urushi and Dari out of range to see his foul up. Satisfied that his secret was safe, York closed his eyes. Never mind that Cardinal was rooting through Noir's stuff, and Noir's "sewing" wasn't going anywhere, he'd seen what he wanted and was satisfied.

"Happens all the time," Noir confided once York's eyes had closed and were on their way to scrunching up again. The now familiar blue glow sullenly reappeared. "I've been with him since dear old dreary Hod kicked the bucket and he's only got it right maybe five times."

Suddenly feeling hot, than deathly cold, the black haired boy gapped up at the blonde woman.

"Hod?!"

"What about it?" Noir smirked, curious for once. his was something new, something almost interesting. "Prissier than Daath, whiter than Keterburg after a winter snow, and boring as Hell." To enunciate her point Noir yawned. "A girl working he way couldn't last a week before starving to death. Lots of annoying blue laws at Hod."

"Hod?!"

Mm Hm..." Curiosity waning (after all Cardinal was only saying the same thing, granted the tones were almost tortured but the same word over and over again could become dull no matter the inflections) Noir let gravity and want take her to the ground. With a "thump" she sprawled amongst her blankets and packs and while not as soft as a feather down it was hers, and ownership made it more wonderful than any softness. "Best thing Kimlasca did, blowing it to smithereens."

Quiet fell then, not pure quiet, that quiet was the silence one could find only indoors, and only if one worked. Outside there was a pseudo silence that was filled with quiet and not so quiet, interruptions. In the distance Chirpees cried out, the rustle of wind over the grass was so omnipotent it was all but forgotten. From far away he heard York muttered a few curse words as his chant failed again, than even further but more loud came Urushi. Grumbling and grousing, like always, than a laugh, a booming roar of a laugh as Dari laughed at whatever his short subordinate had just said.

In that not so quiet quiet, the boy they called Cardinal spoke so only Noir could hear.

"Father said that Malktuh hit Hod with some secret weapon. So Kimlasa couldn't claim it as their own."

Rolling over so she was better facing him, Noir lifted one foot, kicked idly at the sod.

"Really?" The scarlet clad woman queried, tone not quite so bored as before.

But it was an untouched tone, one with a breath of amusement but... no caring. None at all. Shivering, Cardinal nodded, and at the solemn gesture Noir snorted, rolled over so she was on her back and looking up at the wild wash of color that was prelude to a darkening sky.

"Hunh... really. Malkuth destroyed Hod." And though she already knew there was a note of question in the statement. Quietly then, almost in a sick one. "I'll be damned."

From behind, shrill with excitement, there came a squalled "I got it!"

Turning to the sound Cardinal saw York dancing with glee. Shrouded in blue, symbols steady and sure, the blue clad thief struck a supposedly elegant pose. Well aware that all eyes were on him, he strived to appear noble. And he failed utterly, though he was so thrilled that he never saw the scornful smile curling Cardinal's lips. With a twitch of his wrist and flutter of his long fingers, York of the Dark Wings let loose the final lines of his chant.

"Oh violent splash, Torrent!"

An ominous rumble filled the sky, then black clouds boiled out of nowhere, blocking the colors and sky from sight. With another thunder-like rumble the contents of those too sudden clouds fell from heaven to saturate one and all in torrential downpour. Rain slashed into the Wing's camp, that and a bitterly chill wind. Then, as quick as it came, the clouds packed up their rain, and on the winds of their birth, made what Noir would have called "a quick stage left". Exactly two steps away from where Dari and Urushi had sat for their span of the watch all was as sunny as the falling sun would allow, and more importantly all was dry.

Inside the bounds of York's miscast spell it was a soup of mud, possessions and waterlogged flora.

Clambering to her feet, splashing all the while, Noir staggered towards York, stomping shoes skidding from time to time but not enough for her to actually fall. Smug smiling sliding off his lips at the face of another failure, York paled, spying something almost maniac in Noir's expression. Quailing at his Wing Mate's approach he stepped back, unlike Noir he did trip. But he recovered his feet as fast as could be. Because Noir had drawn her knife, and there was bloody murder promised in her green eyes.

"Now Noir, be reasonable..." Arms extended in a gesture of carefully calculated pathos, York was very carefully not to extend his arms too much. "We needed the water, for rations and laundry and-"

Covered up to her knees in mud, black dye washed out of her hair to reveal its' real hue, seemed as if some water had gotten into her ears. For Noir, ever feminine Noir who adored wearing clean clothes and bathing, just wasn't listening. Red garb smeared with unlovely grays and blacks about the shoulders, red hair (not the lush blood red that she's sported when Cardinal had met her, but a duller hue, an almost dusty red reminiscent of fading rose peddles pressed between the pages of a book) dripping. Hell, the whole of her was dripping, shivering and dripping. Eyes darting this way and that, aware of how the woman's eyes had tightened at the word "laundry" York called on his final card when logic failed.

"Dari!" York squealed. "Help!"

"I'll kill you." Noir whispered, knife slicing through the air though she knew it couldn't hit him, not yet anyways. "I'll use your guts for garters you skinny ass son of a-"

Pounding between the two of them Dar snatched Noir's wrist, stilling the knives slashing and halting her approach in one go. Ignoring the cut the blade left on his fore arm for his effort, Dari met Noir's furious eyes.

"Let go Noir." He rumbled, not so much as a smile's ghost in attendance. Taking the half insane snarl to serve as the woman's response Dari tightened his grip, slowly. Expanding then contracting his hand so to better cover, the Wing's leaders grip smothered Noir's wrist and went a good way up her fore arm. As the flesh above his grip went white, Noir paled, pulled as if to break free. But that wasn't enough, not by a long shot. Blinking and cringing the red haired woman (a dusty red, like fire fringed with ash, not grey, never that, but with a few steps less vitality than true flame) gave up on wrenching her arm free. She just glared.

"Let me go!" Noir choked out around budding sobs of pain.

"Only when you do." Dari rumbled.

With a choked cry too harsh to have words Noir complied. With a "splat" the steel fell from her hand and into the mud.

"You idiot." Loosing his grip Dari moved perhaps to pull her close, to comfort... "Are you alri-"

He never got that far, with a broken sob Noir sunk to her knees. Maybe she uttered a "no", more than likely she could not. The tears came then, hard and harsh, stealing all her words and answering all in one go.

Was Noir alright, no, never that.

Looking to York's pallid, twitching frame, anxiety steeling the humanity from the man's face, and the pain (the damp, the cold setting old injuries to aching) taking the soul from Urushi's the truth was attendant, prominent even.

And there were for the moment no masks, no audience to appease by hiding behind them, which made truth not only attendant but chillingly stark.

None of them were alright, not one of them.


	32. The usual

A family of Idiots

Chapter 32

The usual

To my readers, Noir says a pretty bad word, one tha somewhat threatens the ranking of this story. Granted, she's sworn before so I don't think it's justification for pushing this up to the next ranking. But if someone feels that way let me know and I'll do so.

Kasan Soulblade

As the road turned east, so did they. Kicking up dull flakey dust with boots and leggings that were fast losing their original colors and growing to match the path they trod in hue. Amused, bemused, the whole rag tag group watched as their captive took the lead and ducked behind the nearest bit of cover. Experience told them he wasn't "relieving a few pounds downabout" as York would have put it, nor was he trying to make a break for it, so safe to watch they watched. Well aware of their scrutiny, pretending for the sake of his tattered dignity that he wasn't being seen, the boy half bent over and spent a few moments furiously swatting at his pants. Despite his best efforts (best and repetitive, for he'd tried this trick before many a time) the now again red head wasn't having any luck cleaning his pant.

And he was adamantly refusing to stop, when swatting failed he tried swipes.

In the back of the group Noir snickered, Urushi chuckled shaking his head at "Cardinals" amusing antics all the while. Standing securely in Dari's shadow, scrawny face studious, York frowned. Not bothering to turn, keeping his voice low and smile steady, the Dark wing's leader murmured.

"So, you think like Urushi that we've got a Cocoo?"

To that question York shook his head, un-obscured eye intent. "No, I thinking he's a hawk."

"Really?"

Dari's grin tightened a bit about the edges as malice light up his eyes and strained the smile. Well aware of Dari's history and its attendant savage instincts that he'd been forced to acquire to live it, York snapped out a hand, settling it on Dari's writs. Leaning close, dangerously close, for the man could kill him with one blow if he wanted to, York shook his head again. Never mind the man couldn't see it, he'd feel it, would be aware of it in some subliminal ineffable Dari way.

"Not like that." York hissed.

"How so?" Dari purred, hands clenching. Even with his fingers just barely bushing the man's fore arm York could feel the man's muscles surge and jump as he confronted and contained those... instincts.

"When I said hawk I didn't mean some stupid bird, or some ego problem, or bandit pigin for competition." York continued, breathy voice quiet and quick. "It's a word used in Kimlasca by snooty red coats," Catching Dari's grunt of confusion, York elaborated. "Batical Kimlascans: red coats, lobster tails, you know the lingo you've been in Malkuth long enough..."

Dari cleared his throat, only that, and York shut up, or rather went on topic than resolved to shut up later. Dari's clenched fist was a hint as to what would happen if he didn't. While not subtle, it drove the point home. "To be more exact calling someone a "hawk" is Malkuthian clack to descr-"

"Heyla Cardinal you're gunna gouge out you knees yous keep diggin' at them like that!" Urushi hollered.

Looking up from his efforts, Cardinal glared bloody long swords (forget daggers, thems was long swords, yes indeedy) at the stooped man, Smirking at the "hollow" threat, Urushi was oblivious to the fact that Dari was giving his last in command a similar glare.

And there was nothing hollow about the look. About either of those looks.

Deciding then and there that silence was golden and distance were diamonds, York slipped out of Dari's shadow and was on his way down the road before anyone realized he was gone. The riches up ahead were worth any scolding from Dari for bailing out. It also got him out of range of the inevitable fight that he scented in the winds. Looking back, prompted too by the ruckus building behind him, York decided that he'd gotten away not a moment too soon. the dust cloud they all kicked up while fighting on the Imperial road to Engeve was really impressive, large and violent looking even. Smug, he smirked, whistling that Score be damned song Noir had been bawling out a few days ago.

Best way to go about it all was to get that damned song out of his skull now so he could look properly pathetic and contrite when the others caught up. And he'd best do it without that bawdy tragedy howling in his head.

XXX

_Bedding moved, force washed, viciously wrung, and semi dry, they had set their new camp a few yards away form their old one. Grumbling about mosquitoes and bees Urushi had sworn and "hurmphed" so much that York had tentatively offered to "do something about the water." To that four resounding (panicked even!) "no"s had sounded. And to that wise reprimand York had folded._

_Compassion spend to the night, Dari ordered Noir first watch, Urushi second, York third, and Cardinal last. Then, since he deserved it for all his hard work, Dari checked the set of his bandaged fore arm then went to bed. Content that he wouldn't bleed out during the night. Barring the cut however, Dari seemed to be sleeping the night thought more and more often. Ever since the Wings had gotten their "Cardinal" Dari had been sleeping the night through more often than not. Clearly he was a man who believed in getting the "rights and privileges inherent to being a leader" upfront and in full._

_As it was, though they moved, they weren't comfortable. Used to discomfort, Urushi fell first to slumber, then York scumbled despite the burning in his guts. For one though, sleep was hellishly elusive. Try as he might to ignore his surrounding and drop off, he just couldn't'. Though the Wing's "loot" was fast becoming inured to the little pains and aggravations entitled with traveling, he wasn't hardened. Not yet, and forming calluses were the most tender of skins._

_It was the wet that was keeping him up. the blankets were wet, chill, and though dry about the edges they were soaked in the center, and that soaked span was spreading. curled on the edge of his blankets, more out than in, Cardinal glared at the white pointes that scared the black hide of sky._

_And some distance away, facing the dark alone, Noir cried._

XXX

"I hate being dirty." Cardinal whined, trooping behind Noir he groused under his breath, aiming the half growled gripes to the tops of his boots. "My feet hurt, my back hurts..."

From just a little was ahead Noir made a non-committal "Mmm", her familiar red locks swayed as she nodded.

"I'm thirsty, I'm hungry..."

And thus the final facade, that of stoicism died. With an inglorious whine it folded on itself, dying quick and sure, with minimal thrashing. Or, rather, considering Cardinal's new found perchance for whining it might better be said it died a slow, protracted death. Or, perhaps, it was best said that Cardinal would die a slow protracted death if he didn't shut up. Urushi, who's ears were damned good, cast York an inquisitive look, tapped his staff on the ground. Pretending to consider the invitation, York tilted his head this way and that, looked to Dari's broad back, weighted Dari's reaction to Urushi's want. Calculations complete the scrawny man shook his head.

For now they'd just deal with it.

To that unsurprising revelation, Urushi grunted, dissatisfaction twisting his lumpish face into a grimace.

"...Trapped out in the middle of no-where with-"

"-Malkurth, Cardinal, we're in Malkuth." Noir chimed in, cutting off the boy before he inadvertently insulted every single one of the people present and got the crap beat out of him as a result.

"In the middle of _no where_." Cardinal groused; ignoring his fellow red head's rebuke, save to put more emphasis on his whines. To that Noir sighed, and to that soft sound Cardinal went quiet, considering. At last, in a tone less of whine and more snobbish, the boy accepted the semi-mute reprimand and corrected himself. "Forty percent of Malkuth is uninhabitable. Another forty percent isn't habited despite it being perfectly fine because of prohibitations placed on the Empire of Malkith by the Score..."

To that stream of fascinating facts Noir yawned, indifferent as always. Undeterred Cardinal pressed on, insistent on getting his lecture over and done with.

"That leaves twenty percent of almost half of Auldrent, populated."

Patiently Cardinal waited, and after two minutes of mutely walking his patience burned up. Glaring at Noir with both green eyes he prodded a woman over twice his age to speaking with that look alone.

"That sounds like a good number. A big one."

"Ten percent?" Indignant the red head's glare became a gape. "That's a big number? Are... are you stupid or something?"

"Scale, little Cardinal." Noir bantered, ignoring the "stupid" comment as she'd been called worse, regularly, by her own 'Mates. "We're talking about all of Auldrant here. Not the lint and pennies York thinks of as a good payoff."

York, who was keeping pace with Urushi, snorted at the crimson headed faction of the "wings". Only that, but with it came a warning glare. He was listening, had been listening, and didn't want to get dragged into their little argument.

Then, to spite himself, York's mouth snapped open. "Unlike certain Kimlascans I'm not greedy."

"Who you calling greedy!" Noir snarled, face coloring to match her hair, her voice twisting easily into the shriller octaves.

"You." Dari growled, no bothering o turn around. With all the yapping he was painfully aware of where they were. Not that their racket meant anything. Dari lead, and they followed, that was just the way of things.

"Am not." Noir growled.

"Are too!" Dari's growl deepened to a punishment promising snarl.

Knowing from tone and bitter experience that taught her to recognize that tine, Noir's green eyes flicked left then right. Spying inspiration walking right besides her the Wing's woman smirked.

"Cardinal, be a gentleman and tell Dari how wrong he is!"

"Wh...what?" the red head actually stuttered. For once the child was totally without control of poise.

In short, he was a child. Startled, a little shook, but a child.

Patiently Noir repeated herself, swaying closer to her victim. Looking down, green eyes wide, Noir of the Dark Wing's fluttered her eyelashes. With that vacant expression in place she set her hand on his shoulder just _so_... Lifting his hand to hide a smile York chuckled into the appendage. Cardinal's face was well on it's way through going through the rosy spectrum preceding a match to that blood red hair of his.

"Smooth as silk, my dear." York murmurred, shaking his head a little, the smile waning a bit about the edges "Don't know how you do it, but by God, you did it."

"Did what?" Urushi grunted, looking at the man keeping pace with him like York was a little mad.

Used to being considered mad by a maddening world York just firmed up his smile a bit around the edges, shrugged, then shifted his patch from left eye to right to scratch at the now revieled eye. It itched something firece this morning. With a cough inspiring nudge Urushi caught York's attention and left a new bruise besides. Rubbing at his new sore spot, the blue clad Malkuthite looked down at his fellow thief.

"The usual." York explained, still rubbing, smile never failing though it faltered a tad.

_"What_ usual." Urushi snapped up at the emaciated man.

"You're a smart man, you'll figure it out." York taunted, then he picked up the pace, leaving Urushi to flounder in the background.

Like always.

"Damn it, what _usual_!" Urushi spat, first to the thief's retreating back than to the ground at his feet. "_What_ usual!"

To the back of the groups spirited little display the front faltered, then stopped. Looking back Dari's black eyes thinned, promised punshiment to one and all if they didn't shake a leg. To that Urushi snarled at the dirt in front of him, but under Dari's dark gaze got back to walking. No threat needed, thank you ver much. Will dodge the small span of torture by toeing the line, yes I will.

It all went without saying, spoken and afirmed when the cut throat took his first shuddering step, then another. Staff tapping into the grond, bones groaning thier protest, Urushi shuffled after the others, muddy eyes pointed down, studying the ground he trod before treading it.

Like usual.

XXX

_With a broken sigh Noir raked a hand thought her hair, adamently not looking at it. She sniffled a bit, rubbed at her red streaked eyes like a little girl tring to recover from her first spat of tears. By the sound of her sigh -hitched tight with pain and wavering like all hells till the end- it could have been said that the key word of the buisness was trying. _

_But sometimes trying meant failing, and for her this was one of those times._

_Like all the others._

_World bluring, blurred, she stared unseeing at blocky shadows that were actually things cloaked by the dark. Perhaps that was a rok, and a rut there, but she couldn't tell and didn't care. One choaked, nasty sounding "snuff" later and Noir jsut gave up. Gave up on control and image and everythign. All the way this time, no holds barred she gave in to the burning behind her eyes. With a soft moan she folded almost double, face buried in her upraised hands, she wept._

_Unashamed and unrestrained._

_One cry later -a good cry, the kind that made you feel better, worn but better- Noir dabbed at her face with a sleeve of her left arm. Resolutely ignoring the stickynature of the "tears" caught under her nose, she blnked. The world was black, and not as blurred, and she was glad. Glad that for once there was no fire, no way that anyone could see the wreck that served as her face._

_And the horror that was her hair._

_It was ugly, ugly and fake and rotten. Red, that was the base, but it was a dusty red, a hag's red. It was a faded red (not crimson, living, light, and glossy) of rose peddles preserved by folding them in lightless expanse of a book. There was no vibrance to the color, hence the dyes. Dyes that she_ had_ to have, colors that were glossy, and light, and friviously young. A hundred colors, the "many colored" to hide the fact of all she wasn't. She wasn't young, wasn't beautiful, she jsut _wasn't_ and that was enough to keep her back when all she wanted to do was go forward._

_"Gods and Goddess." Noir whispered, taking another swipe at her face, wincing at it's tenderness. "I'm sucha damned-"_

_A sound, soft and subtle made her snap her head up. Whirling on her heel Noir turned and confronted the rustle of cloth against flesh. TO that prompt she twisted to her feet, paraniod nerves making ehr draw her dagger and turn to face the threat. So she obliged instincts, and at the end faced Cardinal. Green eyes looked up at her, too keen, too sharp. She always thought that when considerd those orbs that were the same as hers in color and shape but nothing like her own in every other way. _

_"What do you want?" Noir spat._

_Unblinking he considered her. A miniture adult trappe in a child's body. Flawless in posture, with the shadows of night hiding the rags and wear of his clothes... in that moment it wsa possible to believe in impossible things. "Six imposible thing 'fore breakfast," so went her favoirte line in her most favorite of stories. Shivering a bit, cringing back though she'd never know it, Noir flinched as Cardinal continued to hold her gaze. Then, to add disturbing upon creepy, his eyes flicked to her knife, than to her. He saw she was armed and wasn't disturbed by it in the least._

_And if it had been anyone else, any other little kid, she'd have said it was trust. Trust in an adult, that blind indearing trust that made mothers gush and father's smile indulgently at thier little ones though they were scolding all at once._

_But this was Cardinal, not some "other" little kid. Finally, bored with the stand off, weary with the world, and worn by all her years doing far too much, she sheathed her knife._

_"What do you want?" Noir repeated coldly._

_To that he tipped his head, green eyes looking at the ruin that was her face. To that she bit her lip. Waiting for _it_, that unsubtle stab, the familiar mockery, and or a Dari like show of disdain at her "womanly" weakness. The order would come, she knew it, to choke it down tears didn't fix anything. The silence stretched, and right before her nerve could snap he shifted from one foot too the other, resolutely refusing to break off his infernal staring despite whatever discomfort he was feeling_

_"Well?" Noir snapped her voice shaking to bloody tatters on that one sylable._

_"Why are you crying?"_

_To that she stiffened, as if she'd been hit. The burning began behind her eyes again. World a black grey blur she almost sobbed, managed to not quite muffle the sound, but the tears came despite her best efforts. Damn them for that._

_So much for "choking it down" and "stowing it away for later"._

_"Because..." Confession wavered in her mind, she hung, teetering between truth and confusion. As with all the times before confusion won out, like always, like ususal. "Why do you care? You'll just laugh, like Dari, like York, like everyone else!"_

_Unspoken, but not unsaid, hung the truth. Like _he'd _care. Like _anyone_ had cared. Like anyone _would_ care. No one cared for anyone, that's how the world ran, take it or leave it. Then, because it was so close, because he'd came too close and that dmaned breaking was begining all over again, Noir lashed out._

_Like always._

_"What's your name, birdie?"_

_And to that betrayal his palid skin reddened. Anger and fear twisting his face from miniture adult to miniture monster, in less than ten seconds flat. She shivered despite herslef, and only the glinting of tears about the egdges of his eyes kept her from running. And because she stayed and didn't run (a break from the ususal, a first break in a long long time) she found Shame waiting. Found it hot, hot like betrayal, bitter like loss. Facing that new sensation head on, unable to take back the words that brought it, or take anything anymore, she raised one hand to better hide her face._

_"I'm sorry kid."_

_Silence, violet, violent silence hung between them. Ever a coward she couldnt bring her hand down, she wouldn't bring it down, not for all of Auldrant on a silver platter._

_"I'm a bitch, worse than one. Just a tramp, eh?"_ _Dredging up one of York's sick smiles she gathered what remained of her courage and lowered her hand._

_But she couldn't meet his eyes._

_She would't meet his eyes._

_"So forget it, try to get some sleep or Dari wil beat you bloody for falling asleep when your watch rolls around."_

_Quiet then, still charged, something hung between them, unspoken, unsaid._

_"I.. why are you crying?" He asked again._

_Annoyed, as they were back to square one (And this was a game. _Life_ was a game. The point of the game was to win, and winners didn't stick to the back of the pack. No sirree they didn't. Had to get ahead, any way, any how, else you'd lose) Noir sighed. Even that sound was a bit broken around the edges. Irritated at her own lapses, her own weaknesses, Noir of the Dark Wings grunted. At least that sound didn't break up, around the edges or otherwise._

_"Because." She snapped. "Just because." Then "just because" her blood was up and anger was easier on her complextion than crying was, she added. "How about you tell me your name Birdie, since we're getting along so well and all?"_

_To that he flinched, into himself, over himself, like her question was a sword to the gut. Biting her lip, aware she'd gone too far, Noir swallowed soemthing hot and better. Shame again, she mused, not a pretty taste that, would have to avoid it in the future. Turning her back she went back to watching nothing at all, the nothing at the edge of thier camp. Safer that, safer and surer._

_"You know what Birdie, I told you before and I'll tell you again. I'm not a nice person. How about we shelve it? You go to bed, I get to work, and we leave it at that?"_

_And to that reasonable perposal he paused, considered, then started it all over again._

_"Why?"_

_And to the dark, pretending she wasn't talking to him but herself, Noir told the first truth in many many years. Since Hod, probably._

_"Because I'm ugly, and old, and stupid." She whispered. "Because I'm helpless, and worthless, and I know it should have been over. Lorelie said it was over, but it wasn't, it isn't, and I'm still here and they aren't."_

_He didn't ask the obvious, the "who's they" and he didn't say "why" again. He knew why now, and the boy wasn't one to repeat himself needlessly. Oblivious to how he approuched Noir shivered, then stiffened as small arms wound about her midsection and a warm presence pressed against the middle of her back. Her knees buckles, no prelude of shaking knees to give a warning or two, they just buckled and down she went. Startled, maybe scared, he didn't pull away, but he did let go. And when she fell, hiting the ground as hard as she could, crumpled and slumped, he was there again. Tentativly stroking her head, smoothing her hair as she creid once more._

_When she looked up, Noir saw the familiar wavering. That hellish hanging between truth and confession twisting his too young face and making the tears dance like demons in his eyes. He opened his mouth, maybe to answer or offer something. Something meaningful, something pointless, whatever it is she didn't want to hear it. Lifting a hand, putting one finger to his lips, she stilled whatever he had to say with the lightest of touches._

_"You don't have to tell me 'less you want too."_

_To his silence and wide eyes she smiled, a sickly smile that was all the more true for it's varied shadings. To that he offered a smile in turn, not a pretty one, or a quick giddy one like all the other children would have worn. It was guarded, small, and something of his secret was written about it's strained edges._

_XX_X

"Sooo.." Padding about and around Noir, stoping short of overtaking Dari, York considered the Wing's Loot from the corner of his right eye. Today the left was covered, by a black eye patch of course. Smiling wide and innocently, his piercing blue eye anything but casual, York slowed just a mite. To the emaciated man's scrutiny Cardinal broke off with glaring at Noir. His attempt to "Prove Dari wrong" hadn't gone over well, and though the boy wasn't hurt physically his ego was a mite bruised. Expecting more of the same from York, Cardinal watched the scrawny man, meeting one eye with his own two. "Since we're being all friendly-like now, could I ask you a question?"

_Like what?_ Cardinal's sullen glare mutely asked. The once again red head oozing a quiet malice like a fonist dripped fonons.

So engroused in his little sport with Cardinal York lowered his guard, not a smart thing amongst thieves, exspecially those of the protective stripe. Missing the subtle signs, the clenching of a fist and the like, York was sent tumbling by Noir's left hook into his jaw. With a squawk of surprise the Wing's non-battle fonist was sent tumbling into the durt, in his exagerated flopping he brushed against Dari's feet.

Annoyed beyond endurance Dari looked over his shoulder, only that.

And without a word York stood, not daring to breathe a complaint. Urushi stopped grumbling at the unspoken threat, and Cardinal went pale.

Noir, nursing her sore wrist, only smiled, offering an unappologetic "Sprung my wrist, that's all."

"Then don't hit so hard." Dari advised, only that.

They continued on.

xxx

_Satisfied, Darithin of the Dark Wings let his eyes slide closed. Had Noir continued her caterwalling for too long he'd have said something, or at least taken her knives away from the girl. Quietly, Dari rolled over so his back was to the drama unfolding, and with his closed eyes he felt confident enough that sleep would come. Maybe without that familiar taste._

_That was part bitter, part hot, and all too damned familar._


End file.
